


Say Your Name

by katzengefluster



Series: Sharp Teeth and Ill Intentions [2]
Category: iKON (Korea Band)
Genre: Dom/sub overtones, M/M, Power Dynamics, Public Sex, also has some jinhwan at the beginning, feels a bit like dubcon but isn't really, happy double b week!!, it's not exactly a happy start though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:27:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,332
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katzengefluster/pseuds/katzengefluster
Summary: Bobby Kim likes his men the way he likes his women—with pretty eyes and even prettier lips. They never last for more than a few hours, just long enough to scratch an itch. But one night finds him lost in a pair of fathomless black eyes at a club, and he gets hooked on a pair of pretty lips that he's not allowed to kiss. They belong to one Kim Hanbin—but Bobby doesn't even get his name. All he gets is sex and frustration.





	1. Hunting Ground

**Author's Note:**

> ♥♥ Celebrating Day One of Double B Week!! ♥♥
> 
> Keywords: One Night Stand + (Sub & Dom Dynamics - kind of) + Intense Feelings
> 
> Personal Inspiration: Dream Fortress by Grimes  
>  _Oh, touching_  
>  _He can't have it_  
>  _I can tease_
> 
> This story will eventually have a second part. But the first "chapter" stands on its own. The story is constantly shifting perspective as well, just wanted to point that out.
> 
> This story is being translated into Vietnamese with my permission: https://www.wattpad.com/story/178832854-trans-double-b-fanfic-say-your-name

_“I just need a hookup, find me someone.”_   
  
Jinhwan’s at the bar, eyeing the crowd inside the club, well-versed by now on the type of guy Bobby likes when he gets in these moods. While Jinhwan himself likes tight bodies and height, Bobby’s all about dark eyes and pretty lips, faces with fine bone structure. _Pretty guys._ Jinhwan likes his men muscular, while Bobby likes them slender and lithe.   
  
His friends always tell him that it’s funny that they’ve never hooked up, since they’re kind of each other’s type, but Jinhwan would never. Not Bobby. He’d only get his heart broken in the end, because Bobby’s never in it for the long-term. Not with guys, at least. He’s too caught up in his family’s visions of his future with a wife and children. Jinhwan’s pretty sure that’s why he goes for the pretty boys. Because if Bobby’s going to force himself to lie to his parents, he might as well stick to guys that have a feminine edge to them. Just to make sure he doesn’t let that 70-30 split that he _says_ is in favour of women swing the opposite way. (Jinhwan’s sure that 70-30 split is already in favour of men, but he’s too sweet a friend to tell Bobby what he really thinks.)   
  
Besides, Jinhwan knows he doesn’t really have the kind of face that Bobby likes. His eyes aren’t intense enough, his lips aren’t big enough, and—   
  
_Oh._ Jackpot.   
  
He sips his drink and watches as a guy looks to be politely declining someone’s invitation to dance, and Jinhwan wants to thank the stranger, because this guy hadn’t been facing him before, but he is now, and he’s _perfect._ Dark brown hair that falls into his eyes, cheekbones that give a regal-looking shadow to his face. Lips that Jinhwan himself wouldn’t mind kissing.   
  
But even though he’s too far to really see his eyes that clearly, he’s certain they’re exactly what Bobby wants, because there’s just something about them that commands a room. Jinhwan watches, takes another sip of his drink, and the stranger moves away but luckily the guy doesn’t turn back around. Instead he pauses in his own dancing and turns his head slowly, and Jinhwan’s breath catches in his throat when the guy meets his gaze.   
  
They stare at each other for a few seconds before his mystery guy smiles at him in a playful way, almost like he’s inviting the chase, and then he closes his eyes and moves in rhythm to the music, some trippy shit that Jinhwan doesn’t know but finds oddly suited to the moment.   
  
He takes out his phone and sends a quick text.   
  
_gnan: found him_ _  
_ _gnan: get ur ass here now b4 sum1 else claims it  
_ _gnan: like me :P  
_ _bob: kk cummin now!!!  
_ _bob: dont u dare btw i need the ass not u  
_ _gnan: :) hurry_   
  
Jinhwan keeps his eyes on the stranger, breathless as he watches the dance. Bobby’s there with him seconds later and just as he’s about to ask where the guy is, Jinhwan can hear it. The soft little _ohh_ from his best friend’s lips. Jinhwan smirks as he sees Bobby’s shadow in the corner of his eye tossing back the rest of his drink.   
  
Jinhwan really hopes mystery guy’s type includes Bobby. It would just be safer for all of them.   


* * *

  
Bobby had enlisted Jinhwan’s help because as good as he is at meeting girls, he’s kind of shit at meeting guys. Maybe there’s something there in himself that turns off gay guys, he’s not sure. But whenever he goes looking they never seem to present themselves, at least not the way they do so openly and easily for Jinhwan.   
  
He likes to joke and say it’s because _‘they can sense I prefer women’_ but in reality he knows that’s not the case. Maybe they can just sense his own insecurity, they can sense his jealousy at not being able to be honest about his own preferences.   
  
Whatever. All that matters is that when he goes out hunting with Jinhwan, suddenly all the guys act like they’re on display, trying to secure him for the night. It’s easy pickings.   
  
He lays his glass down on the bar after finishing his drink and walks down the few steps to the dance floor where his target is so clearly offering himself up, all fluid lines and inviting body language. Bobby almost gets the feeling that he’s not even the one doing the hunting anymore.   
  
Is he walking into a trap?   
  
It’s too late, because the next second he’s in front of him and those eyes open up and Bobby feels sucked in by the bottomless depths. One slow blink and the next thing he notices is the guys’ mouth, plump lips just begging to be sucked in and bitten.   
  
It’s like someone has found everything he likes and has laid it out for him, ready for the taking.   
  
It’s a trap.   


* * *

  
It’s not often that Hanbin goes out looking for company, but tonight is one of those nights, a rare treat he’s allowing himself after an intense month of long days and late nights. Maybe some people would think it’s weird, but he prefers going out by himself, likes going to places he’s never gone to before, mainly because he tries not to leave a trace of himself anywhere. Not with the sort of guys he’s looking for.   
  
Tonight’s club is one of the newer underground places, somewhere he’s been wanting to try for a few months, but he’d decided to leave it until he felt like he’d really earned it.   
  
Upon arriving he’d kept the hood on his jacket up, prowling silently around the place, looking for targets. There were promising ones, artistic types who would either be exactly what he wanted, or exactly the opposite. Sometimes it’s hard to judge with them.   
  
But he’d found _the one_ during a momentary stop at the bar to get a drink. He’d taken a seat beside a pair of guys, one of them a tiny fairy sort (not his type) while the other was exactly the kind of guy he wanted—big, muscular, with a dangerous type of feel to him. At first he’d assumed they were together, but then he’d overheard their conversation.   
  
_“Just work your magic and find me some pretty boy with a nice mouth I can fuck, alright?”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Don’t worry, I know your type.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“It’s been a shit week, I just want to fuck someone unconscious.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“You what? I didn’t sign up for that.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“You know what I mean! Fuck them until they’re unconscious. Not starting out unconscious. I might be depraved, but I’m not that bad.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Listen you little edgelord, fucking men doesn’t make you depraved. That’s your family talking.”_ _  
_ _  
_ _“Ugh, whatever, Jinan. Just do whatever it is you do, and get the gays lining up, alright?”_   
  
He’d smiled to himself at the exchange, because being fucked unconscious was _exactly_ what he wanted tonight. He stayed in his seat while the hot guy got up to walk around, looking at the fairy guy out of the corner of his eye. He needs to be the guy he finds. But he’s not just going to offer himself up right away. That’s not the type of game he plays.   
  
Half an hour later, though, and his prey has just stumbled directly into his trap, and Hanbin can feel that energy he’s after in the air around them, can feel it pulsating in between them. God, he just _loves_ this part of it all, of eyes meeting for the first time, of breaths held in anticipation, of time stopping momentarily as two complementary personalities find one another.   
  
He remembers words at the bar— _pretty boy with a nice mouth I can fuck_ —and he purses his lips ever so slightly, because he wants to see the appreciation in the other guy’s eyes, wants to see him imagining it in his own mind.   
  
The other guy gets that glazed over look suddenly and Hanbin smirks to himself. Guys like this are so easy to manipulate. So easy to play in order to get what he wants. He moves closer and reaches out a hand, touching the guy’s shoulder, and he tilts his head to the side, offering his neck, like the docile little lamb this guy thinks he’s hunting. Hanbin’s good at playing docile, good at playing innocent.   
  
He’s good at playing arrogant too, good at playing the hunter when he needs to.   


* * *

  
Bobby can’t stop himself from reaching out and wrapping fingers around the guy’s neck, his touch soft and delicate in appreciation right now. It’ll get rougher later, once they’re through with their little public foreplay. He runs his thumb over the guy’s jaw, turns his head left and right, like he’s checking him for imperfections before making a purchase. It’s all part of the chase, all part of the show.   
  
Bobby’s the alpha and this guy with pretty lips and captivating eyes is his chosen one for tonight, and he revels in showing it off. He lets go of his chin and grips the back of the guy’s neck, brings their faces so close he can feel the soft breath on his cheek. The guy’s breath is sweet, like he’s been drinking something light and fruity. Bobby’s been shooting whiskey, because it makes him feel like more of a man.   
  
He leans his head down, like he’s going for a kiss, but at the last second all his lips touch is the soft skin of the guy’s neck as he once again angles his head back in a position of submission. It just makes Bobby hungrier for him. He grips the neck tighter and his other hand wraps around the guy’s back until there’s no space at all between them, and Bobby leans into him to whisper into his ear.   
  
“Let’s get out of here.”   
  
But then something weird happens. Something happens that never happens to him, not when he makes his intentions so clear. The guy in his arms looks up at him, eyes crystal clear and confident, and he says, maybe not in the exact words, but he says _no._   


* * *

  
“Dance with me.” Hanbin doesn’t give the other guy a chance to respond before he twists around in his grip, before he’s got his back to him and his ass in the other guy’s crotch. He smiles to himself when he feels how hard his dick is, and it’s a smile born in victory, secure in the knowledge that it’s all for him.   
  
It takes the guy a few seconds to get into it but suddenly his arms encase Hanbin again and it’s not just Hanbin pushing back on him, but now this guy is thrusting against him, and sure, maybe it’s not really _dancing,_ but it’s exactly what Hanbin wants. He wants the show, he wants flirty dancefloor foreplay, he wants to build the guy up and wind him so tight that he’ll explode later on. They’re all the same, Hanbin knows his type well.   
  
But there’s still that perfectionist part of him that wants the perfect picture, and so he slows down his own movements until the guy slows with him, until their thrusts match the beat of the music, and Hanbin grabs the guy’s hands then, but of course this isn’t the type of guy who wants his partner to lead anything so obviously, so a second later the guy’s hands settle over Hanbin’s, and the guy’s the one threading their fingers together.   
  
But it was Hanbin’s idea. He wanted this. He lets the other guy wrap their arms around him, and it’s nice, being all cocooned like this. He leans his head back on the guy’s shoulder, angles himself so his neck is exposed again, and he smiles when he feels lips on his skin, when he feels a tongue probing his jugular.   
  
The best predator is the one who forces themselves to be the prey sometimes, just so they understand the whole process better.   


* * *

  
Bobby’s so caught up in the moment that he doesn’t really realize what he’s doing, doesn’t realize how easily he’s being played by the lithe figured guy in his arms. Instead he nuzzles against the offered neck, barely able to keep himself from nipping at the soft skin. He wants to dig his teeth in, though, wants to bite, like some kind of twisted animal instinct.   
  
Instead he presses his tongue to the skin and wraps an arm around his chest, while the other wraps a little lower and he wonders if the guy would mind if he grabbed his dick? Sure, they’re in public, but no one’s really paying them any attention, not when everyone else is busy with themselves.   
  
He moves his hand a little lower, moves it to his thigh, and that’s when the guy disentangles their hands.   
  
Two seconds later and this stranger in front of him takes Bobby's hand himself and places it on his crotch, squeezes until his fingers tighten over his erection.   
  
Bobby wonders if he could get away with slipping his hand in the other guy’s pants? He doesn’t seem like he’d mind.   
  
He’s never had someone that’s been _this_ easy before. Usually he has to push a little, has to break them just a bit.   


* * *

  
Hanbin’s eyes are already scanning the room, looking around for dark corners or doors. He doesn’t want to take this one home, doesn’t want this one to take him home either. He always knew he’d get to this point one day, where he’d get so worked up he’d just want to fuck in public. They can’t do it on the dancefloor, though, so he has to be proactive, he has to know where to go.   
  
Over by the stairs he can see a few folding partitions set up, blocking off the area directly underneath. It’s probably a spot used for storage, but maybe if he’s lucky there might be space. It would be thrilling, letting himself get fucked so hard while so close to a crowd of people. Can he be quiet enough? Even if he wasn’t, would anyone hear him over the pounding music?   
  
He turns to face the guy, stares up into his eyes for a few seconds, just long enough to see that spark in them, to see them harden in desire. He smiles and leans in closer, makes it seem like maybe he’s going to kiss him, but at the last second he tilts his head and speaks into his ear.   
  
“Come with me.”   
  
And then he spins away out of his grasp, but he’s still holding tight to one of the guy’s hands, and he pulls him through the mass of tightly packed dancers, sliding his way around bodies. He’s good at it, at fitting his way into the crowd, sliding into open spaces instead of just forcing his way through.   
  
At one point he drops the other guy’s hand, just to add to the vibe, to create more tension, and he knows it’s working because he keeps looking over his shoulder, keeps meeting his eyes and beckoning him on, keeps saying _follow me_ with his expression.   
  
It’s all part of the chase, of holding something you want so close, only to let it go and watch it get precariously further away from you, only to reach out at the last possible second and snatch it back. That fleeting feeling like you might miss it altogether if you’re not careful.   
  
He wants to feel like a feather, wants to feel like he’s getting picked up and tossed around in the wind, wants to feel like the guy following him is nervous that he might float away if he doesn’t act fast. Every glance thrown backwards gives him that impression, because Hanbin’s better at sliding through crowds than the other guy, better at slipping around people.   
  
And then he’s out of the crowd, and he stands there and waits, doesn’t look back, and every second that ticks by heightens the feeling, makes him feel like he’s floated out of reach, like he’s gone too far, only to come crashing back down when that hand clamps around his wrist and he feels that body press up against his back.   
  
It’s bliss, being chased and caught. It’s that tense moment when the hand clasps around your skin, when you’re not sure what’s coming next, but all you know is that you want it, whatever it ends up being.   
  
He gets pushed up against the wall and there are teeth at the spot in between his neck and his shoulder, not biting but just pressing in, making a mark, and he wants to close his eyes and let those strong hands ruin him.   
  
But he can’t, not yet. They’re still too exposed. He manages to turn himself over until his back is against the wall and the moment their eyes meet again it’s like a dozen fireworks go off and his own breath catches in his throat. The guy leans in for a kiss but Hanbin deflects it again, turns his cheek, and usually he does it just to show that he can, but right now he’s doing it because he has to. This connection is a bit too strong.   
  
A hand pulls at his hair and the guy forces his face forward.   
  
“Let me kiss you.”   
  
The demand snaps the connection though, and Hanbin’s himself again.   
  
“I don’t kiss,” he replies, eyes sparkling mischievously, “I don’t want you falling in love with me.”   


* * *

  
The words light some weird kind of fire in Bobby’s chest, they almost make him feel...   
  
Angry?   
  
Who does this guy think he is, insinuating that he could possibly make Bobby feel things he’s never felt for anyone? Fall in love? Bobby doesn’t fall in love. At least not with men. He just fucks them and leaves. There’s never any emotion involved, never anything more than a means to getting off.   
  
He scowls and tightens his hand around the guy’s wrist, digs fingers into the skin and thinks about what he’d said to Jinhwan earlier. _I just want to fuck someone unconscious._ That’s all he wants right now. He just wants to bend this guy over the nearest table and fuck his ass so hard he’ll pass out. He wants to pull out and leave him in a slump on the floor, he wants to blow his load all over those pretty cheekbones and leave him there for someone else to find at the end of the night.   
  
_Fall in love._ What a load of crap.   
  
He hardens his eyes and stares back at the smirking face, and he doesn’t realize that he’s playing into a perfectly crafted role, doesn’t realize that he’s staring into the face of someone who does this on a regular basis.   
  
“I don’t fall in love.”   


* * *

  
_God,_ Hanbin thinks to himself, _you’re so fucking predictable._   
  
He keeps the smirk on his face because he can see the heated look in the other guy’s eyes, can see the battle raging in his head about what to do. Hanbin slides a hand inside the guy’s pants, watches the startled look on his face as he feels Hanbin’s slender fingers tighten around the hard girth of his erection. _You’re all the same, every single one of you._   
  
He drops the smirk and softens his face, watches as the other guy falls for it. He slides a hand up behind the guy’s neck and pulls him closer so he can speak into his ear.   
  
“I want you to fuck me.”   
  
And that flips the switch. It’s funny to him, how easy it is to play guys sometimes. You just have to find the right ones and all it takes is a pair of doe eyes and softly parted lips and suddenly they forget their brimming anger of seconds ago. The guy smirks at him, all cocky arrogance because suddenly he thinks with a simple declaration of lust and a hand on his dick that he’s back on top again.   
  
“You do?” Hanbin nods and smiles coyly at him, and the guy laughs, like he thinks he’s doing Hanbin a favour. “So how about we leave, then? Go back to my place?”   
  
Hanbin shakes his head. He’s not going anywhere with this guy. Not this one.   


* * *

  
Bobby’s not sure he gets what the guy wants, because the past minute has been such a whirlwind of emotions. He wants to be fucked, but he doesn’t want to leave?   
  
“You want me to fuck you right here?” Bobby asks, wondering just what sort of guy he’s gotten his teeth into tonight.   
  
But the guy shakes his head, and then he turns his head to the left and looks pointedly at a spot a few feet away. It’s right underneath the grand staircase that leads down into the club, and there are folding partitions up around the space beneath it. Bobby grins in understanding.   
  
“You want me to fuck you over there? Under the stairs?”   
  
The guy nods and Bobby feels excited at the prospect of what they’re about to do. He’s never fucked anyone like this before, out in public. The closest he’s ever come is getting his dick sucked in a bathroom stall once by a girl that he’d planned to take home. He’d ended up taking another one though.   
  
The guy pulls his hand out of his pants and waits until no one is looking their way before moving over and pulling one of the partitions back and quickly darting in behind it, and Bobby follows, brimming with excitement and energy. There’s a neatly stacked pile of boxes just under the stairs, and more than enough room for them to stretch out if they wanted to.   
  
Bobby’s eyes go wide when he sees the guy pull off his shirt. His eyes roam over his chest, taking in the scripted word that runs across to his left shoulder— _nihilism._   
  
He’s not sure how to feel about that. Once again it gives him the weird sensation that he’s not the one who’s really calling the shots here, that maybe he never was.   
  
But then the guy kneels at his feet and Bobby feels his breath catch in his throat as he looks down into those fathomless black eyes, and then the guy’s hands are at his pants, popping open the button, and he subconsciously licks his lips while he watches the guy unzip his pants and tug them down over his hips.   
  
Usually Bobby wears loose boxers because he hates constricting underwear, but one of Jinhwan’s rules for him when he goes out to pick up is to wear tight fitting boxer briefs, because they’re sexier, and Bobby feels like he might just have to thank him for it later as he watches the guy on his knees press his cheek to his thigh. Bobby’s dick is outlined perfectly in these underwear, and the guy presses his face against it, rubs his cheek against it, and Bobby can barely catch his breath.   
  
The guy opens his mouth and dampens the boxers with his spit, sucking against the hardness through the layer of cloth. Bobby usually discards his underwear right away, usually shoves them down in his haste to get his dick rammed down a guy’s throat, but he can’t exactly move at the moment, transfixed at the sight in front of him.   
  
It’s kind of lewd in a way. Almost degrading? Not to him, but to the other guy.   
  
He snaps back to his senses after a minute of watching, reaching out to grab the guy’s head, like he has to make up for his shell-shock. Bobby grabs him by the hair and pulls his head back, stares him in the eyes in an attempt to assert his dominance, but…   
  
What is it with this guy that affects him in such a weird way?   
  
He frowns and reaches down, pulling his boxers down over one hip, and pulls his dick out, feeling a momentary surge of irritation. The guy actually _smirks_ at him, and Bobby glares back before pulling his head closer and slapping his dick against the guy’s face.   
  
“Open your mouth,” he demands as he yanks on the guy’s hair, feeling a surge of victory as the guy hisses in displeasure. Bobby yanks on the hair again and this time the guy does as he’s told, opening his lips just as Bobby moves both hands around to the back of his head and rams his dick down the guy’s throat.   
  
He’s a little surprised at the way the guy immediately starts sucking, hard, and Bobby looks down at him, at the way his cheeks hollow and his eyes water automatically. Bobby licks his lips and pulls out until only the head is inside, and the way the guy’s lips look, red and puffy and glossy… It’s exactly the sort of visual he wants. It’s the one he wants etched into his memory so he can call it up the next time he’s with a woman.   
  
He bucks forward again and holds the guy’s head against his skin, forcing him to take his dick all the way down, to be so filled up by it that any second now—   
  
The choking sound is like music to his ears, he loves it. His fingers tighten around the guy’s skull and he feels the guy grab his legs, can feel his fingers tightening around his skin as he fights with himself, trying not to choke.   
  
Bobby finally lets him go, grinning as he watches him pull back and cough, pleased when he sees him hastily wiping a trail of spit from his mouth, pleased because he did this, he did it to this guy who had the audacity to suggest that Bobby might actually fall in _love_ with him.   
  
He doesn’t fall in love.   


* * *

  
This is the part Hanbin has to fight with himself the most over every time it comes. While he enjoys getting fucked, he isn’t really a big fan of blowjobs, but he always starts with them just to get them out of the way, to build up the guy’s sense of overblown superiority.   
  
If he lets them face fuck him first, usually they end up being rougher when they get to actual sex, and that’s what he wants from these kinds of encounters. So he stays on his knees, exaggerating the shaking and shallow breaths. After a moment he finally looks back up at him. The arrogance is all there, exactly where Hanbin wants it, and as much as it pains him to do it he crawls closer to him and reaches up for him again, and he keeps his eyes open as he lets the guy face fuck him a second time.   
  
It’ll be worth it, in the end. He has to put up with a bit of humiliation first, but it serves as a good reminder for his end goal.   
  
He pulls the guy’s underwear down his legs and runs his fingers over the backs of his knees, up the thighs until he gets to his ass, palming his cheeks while he keeps sucking around his dick.   
  
And then he slides a finger in between his cheeks, presses against the tight ring of muscle at his hole, and he sees the look of outrage flash in those eyes again.   


* * *

  
Bobby lets go of the guy’s head and reaches back for his hands instead. What the _fuck_ is this guy doing?! Bobby shoves him back and glares down at him, but seconds later he’s following him, leaning down over him, pinning him to the floor underneath him.   
  
_Just where he belongs._   
  
Bobby fixes him with a snarling expression, pure offended rage, and at first the guy responds the way Bobby wants him to—wide eyes and parted lips, angelic and apologetic.   
  
But there’s something there in the depths, a hunger, like he did it all on purpose.   
  
Bobby’s hands are on the guy’s pants before he even realizes it, tugging the zipper down and pulling them roughly over his hips, and maybe he should realize something isn’t right when the guy is the one tearing open the condom and sliding it over his dick, but the only thing on Bobby’s mind is wondering whether he should take the guy’s pants off all the way or leave them on? He could just roll him up, keep his legs caught up together in his jeans.   
  
If only he’d been wearing a belt, Bobby might just tie him up with it.   
  
“You want me to fuck you?” Bobby hisses menacingly at him, leans down close to his face, “Huh? You want my dick in your ass, bitch?”   
  
He’s met with those doe eyes again, softly blinking as the guy sucks his bottom lip into his mouth and nods slowly.   
  
“I’ll fucking ruin you.” Bobby whispers, and smirks again before sitting up to stuff his dick in this guy’s ass.   
  
No lube, though. _The little bitch doesn’t deserve it._   


* * *

  
Sometimes Hanbin finds himself pleasantly surprised with the words that come out of these guys’ mouths, but more often than not it’s all the same bullshit, and if there’s one thing he really hates it’s boring, uncreative dirty talk.   
  
_‘You want my dick in your ass, bitch?’_   
  
_No,_ he thinks to himself, _I want fucking earplugs._   
  
Seconds later, though, and he’s pleasantly surprised, shivers down the spine sort of way, because with the way he whispers at him _I’ll fucking ruin you_ it actually sounds like he means it, and god, Hanbin wants that in the moment. He wants to get fucked hard, and fast, with a touch of violence.   
  
Just enough to black out for a second or two, to swim the blissful shores of oblivion when he cums. It’s the only thing these guys are good for, really.   
  
Without warning or prep of any kind he feels the burning stretch of being breached, and even though it’s dangerous and it might draw attention he can’t help but gasp out loud, half-gasp and half-scream, and he screws his eyes shut at the way it hurts. But for reasons he’s never bothered to understand he likes the pain, likes it when it hurts.   
  
Of course _they_ like it, the guys he lets fuck him, they like how powerful it makes them feel, like they’re in some kind of competition and they’re winning it. But it’s not a victory if Hanbin isn’t even fighting it, is it? Not if he sets it up this way. Not if he pushes them in this direction.   
  
The only thing he doesn’t like is the way this guy’s got his legs drawn up, still tangled in his jeans, because that’s going to get annoying fast. He likes being able to wrap his legs around them, likes to do it so he still feels like he’s in control.   
  
He’ll let this guy have his moment, though.   


* * *

  
Bobby’s up on his knees, dick buried in this pretty boy’s ass, and this is exactly what he was after tonight, precisely what he wanted to achieve. He forgets for a moment where they are, forgets that they’re mere feet away from other patrons, forgets that behind the flimsy screens are hundreds of people dancing and drinking.   
  
He fucks him hard for a few minutes before his knees start to protest from the floor, and he pauses briefly to look around, and he wonders how stable the boxes are? Wonders if they’d support the guy?   
  
He pulls out and stands up, grabs one with his hands and feels zero give to the box. It’s heavy and sturdy as a brick, like it must be full of paper. He turns back around to see the guy on the floor, his jeans pulled off and discarded.   
  
Whatever. Bobby would rather make himself more comfortable than worry about restricting this guy’s legs. He reaches down for the guy’s hand and yanks him up to unsteady feet, shoves him two steps backwards until his legs hit the stack of boxes, and Bobby leans down to try and kiss him again (because he wants to feel those soft lips against his own) but at the last second the guy stretches his head back and Bobby’s lips press into the soft skin of his neck again.   
  
The urge to bite it is even stronger now, but instead he just shoves him on his back and grabs his legs, hoists them up and presses them down, trying to touch them to the guy’s chest, and they’re spread so beautifully, cheeks parted for the easiest access.   
  
Their eyes meet again and Bobby’s stare is hard as nails, and he intends to make good on his promise of earlier.   
  
Pretty as he is, he wants to destroy this guy.   
  
Wants to fuck the gleam out of his abyss eyes, wants to hurt him so bad he blacks out from it all.   
  
Because his words still burn in Bobby’s mind, his teasing tone still haunts him. _I don’t kiss, I don’t want you falling in love with me._ He needs to teach him a fucking lesson.   


* * *

  
Hanbin winces as his back hits the cardboard, and again when the guy bends his legs up, rolling him into a ball with his ass out, waiting to be filled again. But it’s all going according to plan, because just as expected the guy had tried to kiss him again, but Hanbin denied him, and that denial is only fostering the obsession, he can see it smoldering in the eyes that are glaring down at him.   
  
_Be careful,_ he wants to tease him, _your obsession’s starting to show._   
  
He’s ready for it this time, ready for the stretch, but he still gasps and screws his face up in pain, still makes his breath hitch and makes a sound like a sob that the guy eats up. _So easy to play._   
  
But the guy’s fingers dig into his skin so tightly he can feel the closely bitten nails. He wants to pull his hands away, wants to slide his legs down the guy’s body and wind them up around his waist. He just has to be patient. He can’t fight him. Not yet.   
  
So he waits, and eventually the guy moves his hands, he slides them down his thighs and Hanbin lets them slowly come forward until they’re resting over the guy’s shoulders, and he doesn’t seem to mind, not with his hands digging into Hanbin’s hips.   
  
Hanbin closes his eyes now that his legs aren’t cramping anymore and enjoys the feeling of being fucked, enjoys the burn now even though he knows he’s going to be sore tomorrow. But it’s not the same if it doesn’t hurt. He knows that from experience.   
  
He’s impressed with the guy’s ability to keep up his pace, wonders if he’s taken something for it? Not that Hanbin cares. He’s just happy whatever the reason.   


* * *

  
Bobby fucks him hard for a solid five minutes, not breaking in his pace once, not until he finally needs a moment. Without saying anything he pulls out and steps back a pace, breathing hard and watching as the guy lays on his back, panting hard. His ass feels amazing, tight and hot, nothing but pure friction.   
  
But then he remembers where they are and Bobby looks up suddenly, eyes darting around, but there’s no one there. They’ve managed to go unnoticed, and he’s grateful for that.   
  
He steps up to the stack of boxes and reaches for the guy’s face, grips his chin tightly.   
  
“You like that so far? You want more of my dick?” Bobby grabs his arms and pulls him up to his feet, smirking when the guy stumbles into him. That after only five minutes. How is this guy going to make it home when Bobby’s actually done with him?   
  
He pulls him over to one of the partitions, moving it out a little, just enough for them to see out into the crowd. He stands behind the guy and nudges his dick in between the guy’s thighs, breathing heavily against his neck until he can feel the trepidation rolling off of him in waves. He reaches a hand around to the front, touching the other guy’s dick for the first time that night with his hand. The guy whines at the contact and Bobby tugs on it again, excited to hear the sharp intake of breath.   
  
“This what you wanted?” Bobby asks him, mouth at his ear, “want me to fuck you right here, right where everyone can see us? That gonna get you off?”   
  
The guys just moans and pulsates in front of him, wiggling his thighs tight against Bobby's erection, like he wants it in his ass again. Bobby jerks his dick harder and the guy hisses again.   
  
“What was that?” Another tug has the guy whimpering what sounds like _yes, please_ . “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”   
  
He backs them up a few steps before grabbing the guy by the back of the neck and forcing his head down until he’s bent at the waist, arms dangling at his sides. Bobby just stares at him for a second, loves the look of him like this, dangled in front of him like a doll. And of course the split in the partition wall is still there, and if anyone were to look back right now they’d see a sliver of them, but it would be enough to know what they’re doing.   


* * *

  
Hanbin thinks that this is what he really wanted tonight, the thrill of being discovered, and the second the guy makes a gap in the wall and he can see the crowd he can feel the spark that travels down from his fingers to his toes, and secretly he wants someone to see them like this. Just one person. One lonely voyeur.   
  
Then the guy has him bending over and Hanbin goes along with it, just bends and wraps his hands around his legs, wonders how long he’s going to keep him like this, wonders if the blood rushing to his head during the sex will make him pass out?   
  
He wants to make noise, wants to yell, but instead he just grips his legs tight and whimpers when the guy slams into him again, and in all the positions he’s gotten himself into willingly over the years, this one is actually new. The guy thrusts into him so hard that he quickly has to brace himself on the floor with his hands, and there’s just something about this position, about the indignity of it all that has his knees shaking. He looks up and out through the slit again, watches the people on the dance floor, sees the people milling around the bar, the ones standing in the dark on the sides, chatting potential mates up.   
  
But no one has noticed them, and he’s not sure if that makes it feel more or less dirty? Instead of being the ones intruded upon, he’s the voyeur.   
  
Or at least he is until the guy behind him leans over him and forces his head back down until he’s staring at the floor. It has his knees shaking again and even his arms feel wobbly, and he doesn’t know if it’s just being bent over with his head down, blood rushing to it, or if it’s something else entirely, but his breaths are shallow, he feels like he can’t breathe.   
  
It feels like everything speeds up—the sex, the music, the pounding in his ears.   
  
Maybe he’s hyperventilating. Maybe he really is going to pass out.   
  
All he knows is that the very second he feels the guy wrap his hand tightly around his dick it’s too much and he cums right away, stars in his eyes that might be from the orgasm, or maybe from the lack of oxygen, or maybe from—   


* * *

  
Bobby can feel it, the second the guy hits orgasm. He can feel it in the way his ass clenches tight around him, the way his body goes rigid for a few seconds as he rides it out, and it’s such an intense feeling that he can’t help but cum too, one hand still tight on the guy’s dick while his other is dug tightly into his hip, and Bobby finishes with a grunt and pulls back, pulls out of him and straightens his back and then—   
  
The guy just falls forward, collapses to the floor, and Bobby feels a momentary swell of panic hit him, but all he can do is stand and stare, mouth agape, breaths hard and heavy on his tongue.   
  
Did he just…   
  
He’s not sure how long it takes, he doesn’t count, but eventually the guy moves, he rolls to his back and looks up at him with heavily lidded eyes, and Bobby has the weird urge to climb on top of him and kiss him.   
  
Because he can’t possibly turn away this time, can he?   
  
But he just stands where he is, unmoving and still panting, and their eyes lock on each other. Bobby’s not sure what he sees in those black depths, but it’s so easy to lose himself in them, it’s so easy to picture them when he closes his eyes, so easy to see those lips around his dick, so easy…   
  
Then the guy sits up and it breaks the spell and Bobby looks away, can’t quite explain the weird feeling he gets in his chest, doesn’t know what it all means. But he looks out through the partition, and they still remain unseen. He’s not sure why it bothers him.   
  
He looks back at the guy again, who’s busy sorting through their clothes on the floor. Bobby watches as he pulls on his underwear and his shirt, disappointed when the fitted t-shirt covers up his chest tattoo.   
  
Finally the guy looks up at him, their eyes meet again, and Bobby isn’t sure he likes what he sees there. For someone who just got fucked so hard that they passed out the guy looks almost smug?   
  
Bobby remembers his irritation then, and it floods his brain without even realizing it.   
  
Whatever. He’s literally just fucked a guy unconscious, exactly what he’d told Jinhwan he wanted to do. Maybe the smug look isn’t even smug. Maybe it’s just some symptom of lack of oxygen.   
  
Bobby looks around for his own underwear but suddenly the guy’s holding them out to him, and Bobby takes them, quickly pulls them on as the guy’s gaze travels over his exposed lower half. Despite having just fucked him he’s feeling oddly vulnerable.   
  
He grabs his pants and pulls them on, struggling on his feet. He can feel the guy’s eyes on him from his spot on the floor, can feel himself being watched. It feels intrusive.   
  
This isn’t how he’s supposed to feel after sex.   
  
When he finally gets his pants on and done up he looks back at the guy on the floor, who smirks at him and quickly pulls his own pants on.   
  
Bobby still wants to take him home. He feels like they’re not done yet. He reaches a hand down to help pull the guy up to his feet, steadying him when he wobbles on shaky legs. That makes Bobby feels better about the whole situation, makes him feel like maybe he was just imagining things.   
  
“I’m Bobby,” he says as he pulls him up, feeling awkward about it a second later, because who the hell introduces themselves after a one time fuck like this one?   
  
The guy just stares back at him and suddenly Bobby feels on edge again.   
  
“It’s nice to formally meet you, Bobby.”   
  
And that’s it. Nothing more, no offer of his own name. Just a smug response and a smug look and Bobby takes it as the insult it is.   
  
“What’s your name?” He can’t stop himself before he asks, and he curses himself the very second the words leave his mouth, but he can’t take them back.   
  
“I never give my name,” the guy replies, half-lidded eyes looking up at him, and he moves in closer until they’re chest to chest and Bobby can feel his breath again against his face.   
  
It’s not the answer Bobby wants. “Just this once?” Why does he even care, anyway? This was just a hookup, nothing special. But his brain can’t let him walk away without knowing. He gave his name. He can’t leave without one in return.   
  
The guy brushes his fingers over Bobby’s cheek softly, and Bobby can’t figure out what he’s feeling at the moment. He feels like he wants more, but he also feels like he wants to take it all back, like he wants to retrace his steps and leave this guy out on the dance floor.   
  
“I’ll give you a choice,” the guy says suddenly, “you can have one of the following things, but not both.”   
  
Bobby waits with bated breath, like he can’t breathe until he hears him out.   
  
The words are whispered against his cheek. “You can either have my name, or you can have a kiss.”   
  
It should be a no-brainer, really, it should be a simple answer, it shouldn’t require any thought at all, shouldn’t even be a question, but apparently life’s not so simple—   
  
“I want your name.”   
  
_Wrong answer._   
  
The guy just smiles, like he knew that was the answer he was going to get. But instead of making good on his offer he leans forward and lays both palms against Bobby’s cheeks, lightly holding his face as he presses pillow soft lips against Bobby’s mouth, as his tongue slowly probes against them, forcing its way in through Bobby’s shock.   
  
All the power Bobby felt like he’d held, every bit of authority he wielded is ripped from him in that one instant, and the kiss feels like punishment, it feels like the snake offering the apple, it feels like his own fall from grace.   
  
But the second it’s gone he’s desperate for more, desperate to taste it again. It leaves him panting and wide eyed, staring in surprise at the smirking figure before him, who smiles sweetly at him before turning his back and squeezing out through the break in the wall without so much as a backwards glance.   
  
It’s going to haunt him. Everything about the encounter is going to haunt him.   
  
The stranger’s words from earlier in the night rush in and slap him across the face again.   
  
_‘I don’t kiss, I don’t want you falling in love with me.’_   
  
It was a trap and he’d willingly walked right into it. Now he’s stuck, his leg caught in the vice jaws, unable to move, unable to follow, and that’s when he understands, finally, what just happened.   
  
Bobby never wants to follow. He never wants more, just like he never wants a name.   
  
_‘I don’t kiss.’_   
  
Bobby’s always the one leaving, always the one blocking numbers.   
  
_‘I don’t kiss.’_   
  
Bobby’s always the one doing the hunting, never tasting the same meat twice.   
  
_‘I don’t kiss.’_   
  
And now it’s all backwards, now Bobby understands what he is, and what he does, and now he’s the one feeling helpless, the one with a raging inferno of obsession bubbling in his stomach, and it’ll never be quenched.   
  
Not without a name.   
  
_‘I don’t want you falling in love with me.’_   


* * *

  
Hanbin makes a quick stop at the bar, pleased when he finds the fairy guy still sitting there. He orders a shot of cherry Sourpuss, just to wake himself up, and shoots it back before stopping in front of the little fairy guy.   
  
Their eyes meet for a few seconds and the guy gives him a confused look, Hanbin can see his eyes darting around for his friend. Hanbin just smiles at him before turning away and crossing the dancefloor again, heading for the exit.   
  
It was a success, he could see it in the panicked look in the other guy’s eyes after he’d kissed him, and he can’t help but grin the entire way out of the club.   
  
He’d made the right choice in fucking him here. Because even though, on the surface, he has zero interest in ever seeing this guy again, he can feel it, that annoying little tug underneath it all.   
  
Like maybe they were fated to meet. Like maybe, if he’d gone home with him, he might have stayed the night for the first time ever.   
  
So he has to leave, and he can never come back.   
  
Because he’s sure this guy’s going to be looking for him. Normally they do, sometimes Hanbin even lets them find him again.   
  
But he can’t be found this time.   
  
Not by this guy.


	2. To The Throat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chance alone brings Hanbin across Bobby's path again, but this time Hanbin is the predator, and Bobby is his prey.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time for round 2! My inspiration for this chapter (and the chapter name) is taken from the song "To The Throat" by Lead Into Gold. I highly recommend it to set the mood. ;)
> 
> This part is quite dark in parts, much like the first. It plays very heavily upon manipulation, of using a person's life experiences against them. There's talk of abusive sexual experiences, just throwing that out there. They're not discussed in graphic detail, but they are mentioned, so be wary if that sort of thing bothers you.

It’s been three months.   
  
Three months of prowling the streets of that neighbourhood, three months of returning to that one place, of searching faces in the crowd. Three months of longing, of frustration and irritation bubbling up in the pit of his stomach.   
  
It comes and goes in the same cycle—an obsessive search, hands grabbing faces that don’t end up being the one he’s looking for, followed by a disgust at his own actions, which leads to a night of self loathing that he takes out on whoever is available.   
  
He sees those eyes in every face he takes home with him, he bites lips that are just as plump as the ones he’s after. He’s gotten increasingly nasty and every night he brings someone home it ends in some form of cold-hearted embarrassment. Just the other week he made a girl leave his apartment wearing the torn remnants of her shirt that barely covered her. He didn’t feel bad because she’d wanted him to do it, wanted him to rip the clothes off of her—or at least he thinks she did. (But a few times he’s lain awake at night reliving it, and he can’t help but worry that maybe she  _ didn’t _ ask him to do it, that maybe he got caught up in his own head.)   
  
He’s not any nicer to the guys. He’s gotten in the habit of going after drunk ones, because they won’t protest as strongly if he fucks them dry.   
  
Every few days the cycle repeats. His friends have noticed, Jinhwan has gotten in the habit of texting him to ask at what point of the cycle is he in before suggesting they get together. Bobby hates himself for it, hates what he’s turned into, but he’s stuck, unable to navigate his way out from the thick of it.   
  
It’s been three months of seeing those black eyes every time he goes to sleep. Three months of longing to feel those soft lips one more time. Three months of sticking his neck out into places where it might not belong, trying to find someone whose existence he’s beginning to doubt.   
  
Three months of  _ nothing. _   
  
Today is no different. He’s been at his job for the past six hours, working as a teller at the Citibank in Sinsa-dong, faking smiles when in the back of his mind he keeps thinking about that night again (because he’s currently in the  _ obsession _ stage of the cycle, the stage where he keeps looking for a familiar face in the crowd). He’s off in an hour and he’s been contemplating going out tonight (not to bring anyone home, but just to look around).   
  
He finishes with a customer and glances up as a man in a low slung cap and black face mask struts up to his spot and leans on the counter with a familiar pose, like he’s in his own home.   
  
It irritates Bobby, but he puts on his fake smile again.   
  
“Good afternoon, how can I help you today?”   
  
The customer doesn’t answer right away, but he does remove his face mask, and Bobby can  _ feel _ his heart drop into his stomach.   
  
He knows those lips. He’s been dreaming about them.   
  


* * *

  
Hanbin leaves work early with a wad of bills in an envelope, on his way to the bank. He’s got a trip to Tokyo on the weekend, and his boss has surprised him with a bonus to spend while there. His bonuses always seem to come in fat envelopes left in the bottom drawer of his desk when he’s not looking.   
  
It’s been an uneventful past three months. Work has been tiring but not terrible, and he’s been sleeping soundly. It’s the longest he’s gone without hunting for a fresh partner, and he blames it partly on sleeping so well, and partly on memories of the last one.   
  
There had been something there, some special spark that had attracted him and made his thoughts linger. The memory of those narrowed in anger eyes when he turned his back still makes him smile when he thinks about them. That particular victory has been enough to manage his urges, but lately he’s been feeling it start to creep back up.   
  
Maybe he’ll just fuck a lot in Tokyo. There are some good clubs there. It’ll be a nice change of scenery.   
  
He walks into the Citibank near his office. He usually doesn’t come to this location, prefers the one closer to his apartment building, where he stops in the morning before coming in to work. But he wants to get his foreign currency sorted out now so he doesn’t have to worry about it later.   
  
He gets in the lineup behind an older woman in a smartly pressed suit, who’s typing a message on her phone. His eyes wander as he waits and when they finally scan over the bank tellers he stops breathing for a moment, shocked at who he sees.   
  
_ Bobby. _   
  
His lips immediately pull up into a devilish grin as he watches the face he’s had in his thoughts for the past few months employ a completely different look as he engages with a customer. This Bobby is not the Bobby he encountered. This Bobby is polite and respectful, he smiles and bows and speaks softly.   
  
This is not the man he ruined, at least not at first glance.   
  
But the smile screams  _ fake _ to Hanbin. It’s not the smile of someone genuinely happy to help you—it’s the smile of someone who can’t wait to be rid of you. He’s surprised to find Bobby working in a customer service position. It seems at odds with his behaviour from that night, and Hanbin wonders if it’s just temporary. He couldn’t imagine Bobby doing this full-time for years.   
  
But now he has a decision to make.   
  
Does he wait for Bobby to become free? Does he ignore him and go to one of his associates, only to make eye contact with him when he leaves?   
  
There are still a few people ahead of him, so he’s got time to weigh the pros and cons.   
  
Pros:

-he’ll get to look him in the eyes again, and that initial moment of realization will be delicious   
-he’ll have the upper hand, and he’ll more than likely ruin Bobby’s day  _ again _   
-depending on his reaction, he might get lucky for a second night, if he plays his cards right   
  
Cons:   
-Bobby might have actually moved on faster than he expects, and the reaction might not be what he wants   
-he might refuse him service   
  
He’s glad he’s got the envelope of cash in hand. He’d hate to have to give Bobby his account number. It would be the worst way to give up his name.   
  
By the time the lady in front of him goes, it’s a toss up between who will be ready next between three employees. Hanbin waits, eyes scanning them constantly. There’s an older man behind him, so he can always give up his spot if he has to. Because the longer he stands here and watches him, the more Hanbin wants to greet Bobby again. Just to see the response. Just to know that he was right.   
  
The teller at the end of the line is free so Hanbin turns to the man behind him.   
  
“Why don’t you go on ahead?” He bows and indicates for the man to go ahead of him, and he’s greeted with a friendly smile from the elderly man. He stands back up and glances at the tellers. Bobby’s busy counting money out, so he’d probably missed the exchange.   
  
Good.   
  
Hanbin waits another minute until Bobby finishes, and excitement flutters around in his stomach as he watches Bobby being fake to the woman he’s serving. He can see Bobby’s eye twitching as she tries to continue small talk while she packs up her things. But then she leaves the counter and Bobby closes his eyes for just a second, but it’s enough for Hanbin.   
  
Time to ruin Bobby’s day.   
  


* * *

  
“Hello, I’d like to exchange some money.”   
  
Bobby’s still frozen, he hears the voice but he doesn’t hear the words. Instead his brain bombards the inside of his skull with words he’s tried to forget. The guy makes his request, but all Bobby hears is an infuriating chorus of  _ I don’t kiss _ and it’s almost enough to snap him out of his senses. The guy’s mask is off, but he’s still got his snapback pulled down low, the bill hiding his eyes.   
  
It’s just rude.   
  
His fingers reach for the envelope that gets placed on the counter, and he glances down at it in curiosity. “What currency are you looking to purchase?” He somehow inquires, even though that’s not the question he wants to ask.   
  
Instead his head is filled with other options, all of them embarrassing:  _ What the fuck is your name? Why did you screw me over like that three months ago? Where the fuck have you been? Are you hiding from me? _ But perhaps the worst of all— _ Would you let me fuck you again? _   
  
The guy leans further on the counter, one hand propping up his head. The other hand tips his hat back slightly, and finally there are the black eyes Bobby’s been fantasizing about.   
  
“I need some yen,” the guy says with a smirk, “I’m travelling to Tokyo soon.”   
  
The guy’s got money, an envelope full of bills, it’s a simple transaction but yet—   
  
“Could I get your bank card, please?” Standard procedure, of course, because most people these days do their transactions with just their accounts, no one brings in wads of bills anymore. But he’s desperate, and if he could get the card and pull up the account, all of his questions could be answered.   
  
But the guy just smirks at him again and shakes his head. “You don’t need my account, I brought cash.”   
  
“I’m sorry sir, it’s company policy.” Bobby’s not sure why he says it. Maybe the three months of obsessing over this guy have done more damage than he realized.   
  
He wants that name.   
  
The guy reaches out with his slender fingers, placing one on the envelope. “It’s not company policy,” he says lightly, “you don’t need to know my account. You don’t need to know a lot of things.”   
  
Bobby feels so incensed at the comment, taking the intended insult directly to heart. Fuck this guy. He’s already fucked him but  _ fuck him. _ Bobby gets the urge to throw his money back in his face, and for a few seconds they just stare intensely at one another.   
  
But Bobby’s in the vulnerable position this time. Any longer now and his co-workers might notice. So he slides the envelope back to his side and picks it up.   
  
“Do you have any preference for denominations?” He asks, as he starts to count the money. He doesn’t have to do that, either—they use an electronic bill counter to ensure no human error, but his hands are fidgety and he needs to do something with them.   
  
“No. Whatever you choose to give me is fine by me. I’m sure it will be  _ adequate. _ ”   
  
Bobby’s not sure why the comment makes him angry, but he can feel his face turning red, can feel his own ears getting hot. There’s an amused lilt to the guy’s voice, like he’s here for fun. Bobby doesn’t look at him before turning to his counting machine and depositing the stack of cash into the holder. It’s a lot of money, and he can’t help but wonder where the guy got it from.   
  
He’s dying to ask, dying to make some insulting comment. But he keeps quiet and confirms the final amount with the guy, who nods. Bobby moves to the back to exchange the won for yen.   
  
His blood is boiling, though. How dare this guy show up at his work! Who the fuck does he think he is? Disappearing for three months, only to show up again as though he’d never been gone?   
  
_ Calm the fuck down, idiot, _ he berates himself,  _ you fucked this guy hard at a club full of people, he should be the one who’s uncomfortable, not you! _ Bobby finishes exchanging the bills and takes a deep breath before heading back out to the counter. He can’t let this guy walk away thinking he’s gotten under his skin.   
  
“Here you are, sir,” he greets, counting the money out for him, “fifty thousand yen. Will that be all for today?” He stares hard at the guy’s eyes, not bothering to smile. Instead his gaze is challenging, because that’s better than desperate.   
  
The guy reaches out to take the money from him, brushing a finger over Bobby’s palm as he takes the bills and puts them back into his envelope. “I don’t know, Bobby, will it be?”   
  
His voice is tinged with a cold hint of malice, like a teacher about to scold you for doing something wrong, and Bobby feels it all the way down his spine. He should just send him on his way and put this guy right the fuck out of his head, because there’s something very dangerous in the air between them, he can feel it, and unfortunately for reasons he can’t explain, he feels like he’s on the losing end.   
  
His mouth is dry all of a sudden and he can’t swallow, but if he reaches for his water, that’ll be a sign of weakness. But he can’t speak, because he feels like he might choke on the words. Instead he keeps his expression as neutral as possible and looks past the guy to the next person in line, waiting for him to finish, then he looks back at the guy in front of him and hardens his eyes again.   
  
His mystery guy smiles back and tucks the envelope into an inner pocket of his suit jacket. “I was expecting that answer. Have a lovely evening.” Then he turns and walks out of the building and all Bobby can do is stare after him.   
  
His next customer approaches and Bobby reaches for his water, takes a sip and tries to school his face into a polite expression.   
  
All he really wants to do is run out of the building and chase the guy down, slam him into the brick wall of an alleyway and bite his lip. He remembers pulling out of him and watching his body collapse onto the floor, wrecked and broken.   
  
So why the fuck is he the one who’s broken now?   
  


* * *

  
Hanbin leaves the building and contemplates his options. It’s a prime opportunity, he felt it during the entire time he stood in front of him. Bobby is clearly  _ affected _ by his mere presence, and it’s bad. He’ll be easy pickings, really, if Hanbin wants it enough.   
  
He crosses the street and enters a cafe, orders himself a cup of coffee that he won’t drink and he sits by the window, eyes on the bank across the street. He knows it closes in an hour. Should he wait around? Would it be worth it?   
  
There are a few cars parked in front of the bank. If Bobby gets into one of them and drives, then Hanbin will go home and start packing for Japan.   
  
But if he doesn’t get into one of the cars, if he walks, then Hanbin will follow him. Because he’s curious, he wants to know where the guy lives. He’s also in the mood after their meeting, he wants another intimate experience with him. But this time it will be different.   
  
Because this time Hanbin is not the prey, he’s not even pretending to be the prey.   
  
He’s in full on predator mode, and his prey is across the street tending to people’s finances.   
  
So Hanbin decides to wait, and he gets up to order a sandwich.   
  
A little over an hour later and he finally sees his target leaving the bank, bag slung over his shoulder. Hanbin watches long enough to see Bobby walk past all the cars in the lot, and that’s when Hanbin leaves the rest of his coffee and exits the cafe, following Bobby’s path on the opposite side of the road.   
  
Hanbin pulls up the hood of his jacket and slips on a pair of sunglasses, hoping that Bobby doesn’t remember exactly what he was wearing. He follows him for twenty minutes of straight walking, but it’s all down busy streets, so Hanbin’s not overly concerned about being seen. Bobby looks behind him a few times, like he thinks he’s being followed, but he never notices Hanbin.   
  
His path seems slightly convoluted, like he’s taking the long way to wherever it is he’s going. Bobby enters an apartment complex, opening and closing the gate behind himself. Hanbin watches him from a safe distance away, doesn’t want to be seen. Bobby’s halfway to the building before Hanbin hops the fence and follows behind, stalking him in the low light of the setting sun.   
  
He manages to duck behind a large tree just as Bobby turns around, and he peeks out to see Bobby standing there for a few moments, eyes darting around like he just knows someone is there, following him. But he doesn’t notice Hanbin, doesn’t find any evidence of being followed.   
  
Hanbin hurries to catch up to him, watching as Bobby finally enters a building and fiddles with something in his pocket. It’s the key fob to let himself into the building, and Hanbin knows he has to be careful, knows he has to play this very quickly.   
  
He catches the door just before it’s about to latch closed, nimbly sinking into the building. Bobby’s at the elevators waiting, and Hanbin quickly glances around, pleased to see that no one is near. He softly creeps up behind Bobby, ducking behind a pillar as Bobby looks over his shoulder.   
  
But he moves just in time, and Bobby’s attention is diverted back to the chime of the elevator door opening, and Hanbin peeks out but no one is leaving the elevator, they’re alone, and he strides forward quickly, slipping in past the just about to close doors.   
  
Bobby’s facing to the side and Hanbin moves in to make contact.   
  


* * *

  
He’s been in a weird mood ever since leaving work, and he knows it’s because of that fucking guy showing up. He’s been replaying it his entire way home.   
  
_ “Will that be all for today?” _ _  
_ _  
_ _ “I don’t know, Bobby, will it be?” _   
  
What the fuck had been the point of that question? Had he been fishing for another opportunity? Did he want to hook up again? Maybe he’d just missed it in the moment, having been so surprised. He wishes he could go back and do it all over again. Wishes he’d seen the guy’s face and responded in derision instead of desperation. Wishes he’d questioned him on where he’d gotten the stack of cash. Wishes he’d made a show of checking its legitimacy.   
  
He’d had every opportunity to make the guy look bad, but he’d missed them all, too caught up in bitter memories.   
  
He’d turned down a drive home from one of his co-workers, needing the walk instead. He has to clear his head, has to think about this logically.   
  
Why had the guy shown up at his bank? Had it been pre-meditated? It seemed like it, since he’d come with cash in hand, fishing with his name on a line before yanking it back out of the water at the last second. Bobby had nibbled at the line, he’d have bitten the hook had the guy left it there.   
  
Like a fucking fool.   
  
But if he had come on purpose, then that meant he has to frequent the area. Otherwise how would he have known which bank to visit? It’s infuriating to think about. He’s been searching for this guy for three months, but has it really been in the wrong neighbourhood? All this time, and the guy’s been in his own backyard?   
  
He’s distracted on his walk home, and there are a few times when he gets the weirdest feeling that someone’s following him. But every time he looks there’s no one standing out, no one that stops when he stops, only the other people on the sidewalk who continue walking past him as he waits. But he feels it all the way home, even when he’s standing, waiting for the elevator.   
  
Fuck that guy. It’s all his fault, all of these bullshit mixed up feelings. The complete shift in his personality is a result of that one night, of that one face that he can’t get out of his head. He gets into the elevator and leans into the panel, pressing the button for the 11th floor, and he closes his eyes and leans into the side, just wanting to walk into his apartment and scrub himself raw in the shower.   
  
A second later and he feels tension in the air again, he feels the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, he can feel a tremor run down his spine.   
  
He’s shoved up against the wall the next second and immediately his mind flips to disbelief—is he getting mugged in his own apartment building?!   
  
But then a voice speaks into his ear and his entire body goes stiff.   
  
“I’ll tell you my name, but on one condition.”   
  
It’s the guy. Bobby’s frozen in shock, deer in the headlights, and this guy is the 18 wheeler about to crush him in the middle of the road. He holds his breath, thinks to himself  _ what’s the condition? _   
  
“I want to fuck you. That’s my offer. I get your ass, and you get my name. Decide.”   
  
_ Decide. _ Bobby’s not sure how to respond, because no one has ever talked to him like this before, authoritative and demanding. Usually this is Bobby’s domain, and he’s the one doing the dictating. But now he’s the one facing the ultimatum, the one being brought to heel.   
  
“Your floor is coming up. Decide.” The voice is so powerful that Bobby actually answers without realizing it, the fish lured in by the bait who’s now stuck on the hook, impaled and wriggling.   
  
“Okay.”   
  
_ Okay. _ Has he really just agreed to it? Did he just say yes to this guy? He hears the guy laugh, just a quiet huff of breath, and it makes him angry. What the fuck did he just walk into? This guy followed him home, snuck into his building, and now—   
  
The elevator dings and the guy moves back, releasing Bobby from his grip and gesturing to the open door. “After you. This is your home, after all.”   
  
Bobby turns and stares at him for a second before leading the way, still awash in confusion about what they’re doing. What is he doing, exactly? All this for a fucking name? Has he lost his mind?   
  
He unlocks his door and steps into his apartment and drops his bag at the door, turning to look at the other guy. He bristles when the guy wrinkles his nose in disgust.   
  
“Your place is a fucking mess.”   
  
Bobby wants to take a swing at him, actually balls his hand into a fist at his side. He doesn’t trust himself to swing lightly enough to not injure, though. Then again, he did fuck him unconscious last time. Why not just knock him out this time?   
  
The guy looks at him then, expectantly, arms folded over his chest. Bobby bristles at the look, feels like he’s being judged unfairly.   
  
“I didn’t know I’d be having a guest over,” he replies, voice brimming in irritation, “if you’re so offended, we could just go to your place.”  _ You should have told him to get the fuck out, idiot, _ he berates himself mentally. Why is he putting up with attitude?   
  
The guy actually has the nerve to  _ laugh _ at his comment. “Oh, you’re cute if you think I’ll ever be taking you to my home.” His tone is sarcastic and full of derision, like he thinks Bobby is the world’s biggest idiot for suggesting a change of venue. “Where’s your bedroom?” The guy asks, and Bobby isn’t sure why he bothers pointing down the hall. He shouldn’t even be entertaining this right now. He’s an idiot for letting this guy walk into his apartment.   
  
The guy heads down the hall and nudges the bedroom door open with his foot, as though he’s afraid to touch the door with his own fingers. Bobby follows and wishes he kept his place neater, but then he usually doesn’t care about bringing guys home to this because he never lets them stay. But this guy’s judging him hard, and Bobby despises how it feels.   
  
“Not ideal, but better than the living room.” He stands by the foot of the bed and turns to look at Bobby, and Bobby can feel the weight of his stare and it is exceptionally uncomfortable. They lock eyes for a few seconds and Bobby shivers. This guy is showing a completely different side of himself at the moment, not at all the submissive little lamb he’d been that night at the club.   
  
They say that like personalities recognize one another, and Bobby’s dabbled in predatory behaviour for the past few years. But he recognizes something in the black eyes that stare back at him. Bobby only plays at being an alpha male to make up for all of his insecurities. But this guy—it’s in his blood.   
  
Because Bobby shouldn’t be scared of him. He’s bigger than the guy—taller, more muscular. If this guy attacked him, Bobby would no doubt be able to fend him off and get him under control.   
  
But he’s standing in the middle of his bedroom now, barely able to keep eye contact. His gaze is too strong and his aura is overwhelming, and all Bobby wants to do is get down on his knees and do as he’s told.   
  
But he’s also not some weak little bitch who gives up after the first punch is thrown. He’s got fight left in him.   
  
For now.   
  


* * *

  
Hanbin can see it all in those eyes—the insult, the disbelief, the weakness. He doesn’t think the guy is going to roll over right away, but he’ll be on his back or his knees before long, and Hanbin will savour that feeling of power.   
  
“Take your clothes off.” He issues the command and smirks when the guy automatically reaches for his shirt, unbuttoning it hastily and pulling it off. He hesitates after he does that, his eyes narrow as they stare back at his own and he’s sure the guy is about to protest.   
  
No problem, though. Hanbin knows how to deal with this sort of thing.   
  
“Are you sure you’re okay with this?” He asks, fake concern in his tone. “Have you actually had a dick in your ass before? Or is this going to be your first time?” It works like a charm, and the guy undoes his belt.   
  
“I’ve been fucked before.” He says it with such raw anger that it gives him away, and Hanbin pounces like the predator he is.   
  
“But it wasn’t very enjoyable for you, was it?” He asks, his voice soft, like he’s talking to a wounded animal. “Your partner didn’t take very good care of you, did he?” He grins when the guy stiffens.   
  
“It was good. I prefer doing the fucking, but I’m not some little bitch that hated it.”   
  
_ Oh, but you were. _ It’s all there, Hanbin can hear it in the tone of his voice, in the words he chooses. “I bet you got fucked so hard, and it hurt so much, that you couldn’t sit the next day.” He’s met with a glare in response, but there’s the tiniest wake of panic in the eyes, and Hanbin feeds off of it. “That’s why you do what you do now. That’s why you go after the guys you go after, because you don’t want to be the weak one again. You want to be the strong one, you want to be the one who ruins other people, in order to hide your own shame over getting destroyed that first time.”   
  
He’s right, he knows he is. These guys are all the same, they all have the same histories, and Hanbin loves to exploit them.   
  


* * *

  
Bobby’s hands still at the guy’s words, his pants opened over his hips, halfway off. He wants to debate what the guy’s saying, wants to issue some angry retort and tell him to get the fuck out of his apartment, out of his life.   
  
But he can’t fight the truth. And there’s way too much truth to what this guy is saying right now. His first time with another man was terrible, and he hated it, hated the way he felt afterwards, like he’d just been used. He remembers all too vividly the shame he’d felt while lying there on the bed after his partner pulled out without once touching his dick, remembers the way his brain was torn in two—focused on the stinging burn in his ass, but ready to beg for a hand to wrap around his dick so he could also cum.   
  
He never had gotten release that night, not even by his own hand. Instead he’d just gotten his clothes thrown in his face and he’d gotten a handful of bills thrown his way  _ “for the cab home”. _ He’d never felt dirtier in his entire life than he’d felt that night, he’d never hated himself more.   
  
He’d felt weak and vulnerable and he’d vowed to never feel that way ever again.   
  
So he hasn’t. Instead he’s become the predator, looking for the weak ones, exploiting them for his own gain. He’s doing exactly what was done to him, and he’s never felt bad about it. Until now.   
  
But he can’t admit it, not to this guy. Even so he gets the distinct feeling that he can’t exactly hide it, either, he feels like this guy knows everything about him. It’s a dangerous feeling, one that he’s not happy to be feeling.   
  
But then the guy smirks at him again, and Bobby knows it’s a look that’s going to haunt his dreams.   
  
“I just wanted you to know that you don’t have to worry about that with me,” the guy tells him, all smug look and arrogant tone, “I’m going to fuck you so good that you’ll never be able to think about anyone else. Every time you’re with someone, every time you’re jerking off, you’re going to think about me, and you’re going to remember how good I made you feel.”   
  
It should be exciting, hearing someone talk about sex that way. It should make you feel anxious to get started. But instead he feels wary, he feels like it’s another trap. But he’s caught on the lure, the hook is through his lip and there’s no pulling it out.   
  
Suddenly the guy gets right up in his face and Bobby is surprised to feel hands settle over his cheeks, but he’s even more surprised to feel lips pressing against his own again, and he foolishly lets himself get caught up in the kiss, he gives himself away again as he sloppily digs his tongue against the guy’s lips.   
  
Then his pants get shoved down his legs and the lips are gone as the guy sinks to his knees, and even though they did this exactly three months ago it feels completely opposite now.   
  
The guy clamps his mouth down over Bobby’s dick, through his boxers, but Bobby’s not wearing the tight boxer briefs he wears to the club. He’s wearing his favourite pair of loose purple boxers, and somehow he feels embarrassed for himself that he’s not wearing something specifically for the bedroom. It feels like a mockery this time, and he wants to be angry, he needs to be angry in order to gain some level of control back, but…   
  
He’s frozen, unable to move. The black eyes that stare up at him don’t even seem human. There’s a wild animal edge to them, like he’s being sized up by some kind of ferocious jungle cat. He’s dinner.   
  
The guy pulls his boxers down then and Bobby isn’t ready for it.   
  
He’s also not ready for the sting of the guy’s teeth dragging over his skin, and he hisses in disapproval and tries to grab the guy’s face, but the guy clamps tight fingers around his wrists and holds his arms away, and Bobby’s surprised at his strength.   
  
Just as he’s contemplating kneeing the guy in the face the teeth disappear and the guy swallows him right down to the base, his entire dick engulfed in his hot mouth. But unlike that night at the club, the guy doesn’t choke. His breathing is even as he swallows and slides, up and down, his eyes never leaving Bobby’s and his fingers remaining tight around Bobby’s wrists.   
  
Bobby can’t help but feel slightly weak in the knees, though he’s not sure why. There’s too much intensity. He doesn’t know how to handle it.   
  


* * *

  
Even though Hanbin hates sucking dick, he’s still taken the time to perfect his delivery. Thankfully Bobby’s dick isn’t the longest or the biggest he’s ever had, so there’s that tiny reprieve. But he still goes slow to ensure he doesn’t trigger a gag reflex, he relaxes his throat and counts to ten, backwards and forwards, a quiet mantra to stay focused.   
  
The change in Bobby’s demeanour is truly astounding. Hanbin likes him like this, shell-shocked and frozen, unable to do a thing but watch. Hanbin knows he’s been blessed with his eyes—the dark irises and huge pupils that speak all of his favourite words, that bully his partners into submission while his mouth is occupied.   
  
Bobby was already hard before Hanbin had even touched him, and that knowledge is what spurs him on, what makes him decide to creep down darker paths. Bobby clearly wants this—no matter what his insecure male bravado might make his mouth say. Hanbin uses his teeth again for the last slide down and he sees the betrayal in Bobby’s eyes at the sudden little pique of pain.   
  
Hanbin stands up and fights the urge to smirk.   
  
“Where’s your lube?”   
  
Bobby’s face blanks for a moment, and just when Hanbin’s about to shake his head Bobby speaks. “I’ll get it.”   
  
“Don’t bother,” Hanbin replies, hand on Bobby’s chest forcing him back against the edge of his bed, and when the mattress hits the backs of his knees Bobby sits down. “I don’t want you straining yourself. Just tell me where to look.”   
  
Bobby doesn’t meet his eyes and Hanbin can read the embarrassment on him. Bobby mumbles that it’s in his bedside table and Hanbin moves to the side of the bed, opening the drawer. It’s some cheap drug store brand and Hanbin shakes his head.   
  
“You have the lube of a sixteen year old boy,” he replies mockingly, “I don’t know why I’m disappointed after seeing the state of your apartment. How old are you?” Hanbin never did ask for his age the first time, and he hopes Bobby isn’t really as young as he might be.   
  
“Twenty five,” Bobby replies with narrowed eyes, and Hanbin smiles back at him.   
  
“Then please treat yourself  on your next paycheque and buy something better than this garbage.” But he tosses it down on the bed beside Bobby all the same, because cheap lube is still better than no lube at all.   
  
Unless you’re the type of person who prefers it rough. Hanbin might be, but he’s willing to bet his life that Bobby isn’t. In his experience, Bobby’s type can never handle what they dish out.   
  


* * *

  
Bobby isn’t even sure anymore why he’s still doing this. First the guy stalks him home, then insults his home, and now he’s judging him on his choice of lube? Okay, so maybe he has been using the same brand ever since he snuck some from his brother’s room for the first time. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, because they’re all the same and they do the same job.   
  
But he hasn’t moved from his spot when the guy pushed him back onto the bed, he’s just been sitting here and watching him as he digs around in his table. He watches as the guy comes back to the foot of the bed, where he’s sitting and waiting. Like some damn child who can’t decide anything on their own. Why is he letting this guy push him around?   
  
He glares up at him and suddenly finds himself extremely annoyed. He’s sitting on his bed right now, naked except for the pants and boxers hanging around his ankles, while this guy still has all his clothes on. He feels vulnerable and exposed, even though he knows he shouldn’t. He has nothing to be ashamed of.   
  
But still. It’s a power move, making your partner fully expose themselves before you show anything. Bobby would know—he’s done it numerous times. It feels wrong to be on the other end.   
  
He can’t just sit here and let this guy walk all over him. This isn’t who he is, this isn’t what he does. So when the guy tells him to get on his back, Bobby shakes his head.   
  
“I don’t think so,” he replies, schooling his expression into something tough, “not so fast.”   
  
“Not so fast?” The guy repeats back at him. “Would you like me to take it slower for you? Would you like me to get flower petals for the bed?”   
  
Bobby sneers at the mocking questions before standing up and getting in the guy’s face. “I’d like you to take your fucking clothes off before I rip them off.”  _ There. That’s better. _   
  
Or at least it would have been, if the guy hadn’t been anticipating it.   
  


* * *

  
Hanbin had grown up playing a variety of sports, so he’s always found himself quite at home in the gym, working out. He’d doubled his attempts when he’d noticed that despite how hard he trained, he never really seemed to bulk up much. Every expanse of his skin is solid muscle, but he’s still slender and delicate looking. So when he was eighteen he’d started training in Krav Maga, liking the real-life applications.   
  
Hanbin knows that Bobby’s about to stand up before he does, he can see it in the way he holds his body tightly, the way he coils himself in like a spring. Hanbin’s already two steps ahead of him when he gets to his feet and the garbage line he spews just makes Hanbin that much more determined to break him.   
  
Without so much as blinking he pounces forward, forcibly twisting Bobby’s body around by the shoulders until Hanbin’s knee connects with the back of Bobby’s knee, and Bobby crumples right on the spot, sinking down to the floor. Hanbin’s hand wraps around the back of Bobby’s neck, fingers digging tightly into the skin as he mashes Bobby’s face into his mattress.   
  
“That wasn’t very polite,” Hanbin chides him, and he can tell that Bobby isn’t through with fighting, and when Bobby tries to push him off Hanbin is ready for him. One sharp jab to the side of Bobby’s neck has him crying out and face planting against the mattress again, and this time Hanbin holds his head there and waits until Bobby finishes swearing.   
  
“Don’t fight me, Bobby. Don’t make me turn this into something I don’t want it to be.” He waits for a minute, fingers massaging the spot he just jabbed, because he knows that Bobby’s arm is probably still tingling from his hit. He didn’t hit him that hard—he’d just hit him in the right spot.   
  
“I should tell you that I’ve been training in Krav Maga for the past six years,” Hanbin explains as he waits just a bit longer, “I’m quite good at it. I know you probably think that you’re stronger than me, with your bigger muscles, but it doesn’t matter how hard you can hit a man. All that matters is knowing  _ where _ to hit him.” Bobby doesn’t say anything, but it doesn’t surprise Hanbin. Bobby clearly isn’t used to being in this position.   
  
“Do you feel like cooperating, now? I told you that I wanted to make this the best sex you’ve ever had. I could make it the worst you’ve ever had, worse than your first experience. But I don’t like doing that, I don’t really get anything out of it. Not the way you do.” He backs off of Bobby then, gives him just enough space to turn around if he wants to.   
  
Bobby does just that, rolling over and glaring up into Hanbin’s face. His voice comes out in a low growl, and Hanbin hears the wounded animal in him. “Get the fuck out of my apartment.”   
  
Hanbin can’t stop the laugh before it bubbles out of him. “You don’t mean that.” Their eyes meet and hold, but Bobby’s simmering anger and uncertainty is no match for Hanbin’s domineering gaze. Bobby looks away first and Hanbin wields victory like a whip, snapping it against Bobby’s skin. “Now, why don’t you do us both a favour and get back up on the bed. Let me fuck you the way you should have been fucked all those years ago.”   
  


* * *

  
Bobby isn’t entirely sure what’s really going on anymore—everything is conflicting at the moment. He can’t stand listening to the guy talk, can’t stand the condescension, can’t take the mockery. But he’s completely fired up, he’s turned on and he desperately wants some kind of action. But he also wants to fight the guy, he wants to throw punches and knock him out even though now he knows it’s probably a terrible decision.   
  
It’s kind of like smoking. You know it’s going to kill you one day, but you do it anyway.   
  
This guy is clearly not good for him, he’s clearly damaging, yet he still feels drawn to him, still feels like he needs a fix and he needs it right now. He focuses his eyes on the guy again and tries to ignore the smirk he’s wearing, tries to look past it. He reaches out and runs his hand up the inside of the guy’s thigh, and the guy lets him. Bobby expects resistance but it doesn’t come. Instead the guy just stands over him as Bobby’s fingers grope him through his pants, because he just has to know, he has to feel it for himself.   
  
The guy’s hard. His dick feels every bit as hard as Bobby’s does, and it makes him feel slightly better.  Maybe this stupid situation has him ridiculously and embarrassingly turned on, but it also has the other guy turned on as well.   
  
He stands up on weak knees (he’s not sure what nerve in his neck the guy had hit, but his body’s still tingling from it just a little) and meets his eyes again, though he’s unsure what he’s looking for. But the guy seems to know and he moves in closer, slides hands up Bobby’s sides and over his chest, his fingers soft as they glide over his neck and come to rest on his cheeks, and Bobby’s eyes involuntarily close as the guy kisses him again.   
  
The kisses haven’t been open mouth though, and Bobby can’t help but feel slightly frustrated about it. He wants to taste him again, wants his entire mouth, and he wonders if he’s doing it on purpose? Frustrating him in an attempt to make him do what he wants him to do?   
  
The irritation builds up in him again and just as he’s about to pull away the guy pulls back first.   
  
“Lie on your back.”   
  
Bobby glares at him for a few seconds, fighting his own reflex to do as he’s told. But he thinks about how easily the guy had dropped him to his knees only minutes ago, how he could probably do it again if he wanted to, and he sits down on the edge of the bed and slowly slides back. The guy reaches out and runs a hand down his lower leg before grabbing his pants and boxers and slowly pulling them off, finally letting them join the rest of his clothing on the floor.   
  
Now Bobby is completely naked and he lies down on his back, his eyes narrowing in irritation as the guy just stands at the end of the bed and looks him over, slowly appraising his entire body.   
  
And then it hits him—he  _ always _ does this to people he brings home. Always makes a show of slowly devouring them with his eyes. He wonders if his partners ever feel as uncomfortable as he feels right now. Wonders if his attempts at projecting that dominant aura are as successful as this guy’s?   
  
Just when Bobby’s at the edge of his limit again the guy finally moves, pulling off his shirt in one swift motion and dropping it to the floor. The sight of his naked torso is a welcome distraction and Bobby eyes him with an open mouth, once again fixating on the pretty curve of letters tattooed across his chest. Then his fingers pop open the button on his pants and he slides down the zipper, slowly sliding them over his hips and letting them drop to the floor, where he pushes them aside with his feet.   
  
Bobby has the strongest urge to grab his own dick and jerk off, while the guy watches, and he has to wrestle with the very idea to shove it back into non-existence. Just because he’s on his back for this guy, it doesn’t mean he has to turn into some little bottom bitch. He won’t do it.   
  
But he can’t help the way he reacts to the guy slowly crawling up the bed, crawling over him, the heat of his exposed skin making Bobby shiver. He closes his eyes when the guy settles on top of him, biting his lip when his own dick is buried under the pressure of the guy’s body, trapped under his own groin. The first contact made his breath hitch in his throat, and now he can barely stop himself from grinding up into him.   
  
He’s just impatient, that’s all. He just wants to get on with it, because this guy’s drawing it out too long.   
  
He does  _ not _ feel turned on simply by being underneath another guy. That’s not what’s affecting him. It’s just hot because they’re both turned on, Bobby can feel the proof of that shoved up against his own erection. He doesn’t care one bit about how nice it feels to have the heavy weight of another man on top of him, it’s not like it makes him feel safe or protected or any nonsense like that.   
  
The guy settles hands on his cheeks again and when they kiss this time he surprises Bobby by skimming his tongue along the part in his lips and Bobby doesn’t hesitate before parting them and welcoming the guy into his mouth. He doesn’t taste like fruity drinks this time. He tastes like cinnamon, like heat and fire and Bobby can’t get enough of it, raising his hands until they circle around the back of the guy’s neck.   
  
He doesn’t even realize it until it’s done, but the moment his hands placed on the guy’s neck he’d responded, reaching back to pull Bobby’s hands away, pinning his arms down above his head. Just as his brain is about to catch up with the physical action the guy sits up and leans down, his mouth closing over the head of Bobby’s dick.   
  
Bobby moans when he feels the contact, his arms remaining where they’d been pinned down seconds ago. He pushes up with his hips, wants his dick swallowed in further. But the guy doesn’t do that, keeps only the head in between his lips. Bobby whines and opens his eyes, and that’s when he sees that the guy’s finally taken off his underwear.   
  
When he notices that Bobby’s staring at him he sits up and smiles at him before picking up the bottle of lube. Bobby can’t help but feel nervous. It feels like his stomach is about to drop out of his body, and with haunting memories of that first time he’d ever let himself be taken by another man fresh on his brain he grabs the guy by the arms and wants to push him off, but then he catches his eyes and suddenly he stills his movements.   
  
“Give me your hands.”   
  
The command is so unexpected that Bobby automatically follows through, but seconds later he’s about to pull away again and demand an explanation.   
  
But the guy keeps a tight hold on his wrist and Bobby watches with fascination as the guy squeezes out a generous dollop of lube into his open palm. He then caps the tube and lays it on the bed again before taking Bobby’s other hand and rubbing it against his first, effectively smearing the lube between both palms. Bobby has no idea what he’s doing, but he can’t bring himself to ask.   
  
Then the guy meets his eyes and smiles, but the predatory edge isn’t exactly there at the moment. Bobby doesn’t completely trust him, though. There has to be something more going on. He feels the guy’s hands on his inner thighs then, and is shocked when he feels himself being pushed up just slightly into a bit of a ball.   
  
“Put your hands under your ass,” the guy tells him, and again Bobby blindly follows his instruction out of nothing more than sheer curiosity, “cup them, just like that.”   
  
Seconds later he can feel the guy’s dick slide into his cupped hands and Bobby isn’t sure why but it’s ridiculously stimulating. It’s like the guy is fucking his hands instead of his ass, even though Bobby can feel the guy’s dick sliding in between his cheeks. He rolls his hips on each thrust across Bobby’s palms and after a few times he grabs Bobby’s dick finally, fingers curling around the tight skin.   
  
Bobby closes his eyes and pushes his head back into the mattress, confused and conflicted with his own reaction. He’s sure he’ll look back on this later and marvel at how  _ not sexy _ this really is, and he’ll be confused over how turned on it made him at the time. He’s not sure what the point of it is, but it doesn’t really matter, not when his fingers are squeezing around the guy’s dick on every thrust, not when he’s getting his own dick squeezed in return.   
  


* * *

  
This part is always the toughest part for him—getting the guys to accept what he’s doing to them. It’s a bizarre practice to them, he’s sure, but there’s always a reason. Hanbin hadn’t been lying earlier when he’d told Bobby that he didn’t really take any pleasure from being too forceful during sex. He’s not into simulated rape—just manipulation.   
  
He wants Bobby to want it. His end goal is to hear Bobby beg him to be fucked, beg him for his dick. It’s not just about his own pleasure, but about Bobby’s pleasure too.   
  
The difference between them is that when Bobby fucks guys, he wants to leave them broken from the hurt, broken from the shame that he himself felt years ago.   
  
Hanbin doesn’t want to break anyone—he just wants to ruin their future attempts at pleasure. He wants every guy who comes after him to be a bitter disappointment. He wants to be remembered as the best sex Bobby has ever had, and ever will have.   
  
Probably just as cruel, but at least the experience is enjoyed in the moment.   
  
He fucks into Bobby’s hands for a little longer, getting his brain to associate this position with simplicity and ease, to erase prior attachments to pain. He watches Bobby’s face the entire time, watches as he slips into slack-jawed enjoyment the longer it goes on, and he contrasts it in his mind to the looks he memorized from their first night—the looks of violent anger, of a false sense of superiority, of wounded hurt when Hanbin turned his back and walked away.   
  
He stops when the lube in Bobby’s hands is mostly gone, pulling back and sitting on his feet, watching as Bobby lies still for a moment, like he’s coming out of a daze. Hanbin grins before reaching for the lube and squeezing a large amount out into his palm. He slicks his left index finger up and slowly rubs more lube down the crack of Bobby’s ass, trailing fingers over his hole.   
  
He waits until Bobby opens his eyes and looks at him before he slowly pushes the tip of his finger into Bobby’s ass, watches the momentary grimace that pulls at his lips. Hanbin responds to it by grabbing Bobby’s dick again, tightening his fingers around it, and that relaxes him again. Hanbin slowly pushes his finger in further, always watching Bobby’s face for signs of discomfort. Sometimes the guys can’t handle this moment, they yell at him to go faster, to get it over with.   
  
He never does what they want, though. He has his own agenda and he always sticks to it.   
  


* * *

  
Bobby’s panting as he stares up at the ceiling, overcome by the feeling of fullness in his ass. It feels like the guy’s got his whole dick in there, but Bobby knows it’s only a finger. But despite the momentary twinge of pain at first, it actually feels good now, he likes the feeling. Maybe the guy’s just going to finger fuck him tonight. He’d be okay with that.   
  
He can see the guy leaning down in his peripheral vision, can see him bending forward, and he understands why a few seconds later when he feels lips tighten around his dick. Bobby responds by thrusting up into the mouth, lifting his hips up higher, which results in the finger sinking in even deeper. It feels amazing and he can’t help but moan out loud, his eyes closing again.   
  
The guy sucks hard around his dick as his finger swipes over the bundle of nerves Bobby didn’t even realize he had in his ass. With the continued friction against it he can feel his knees starting to shake, and his breaths are coming a little harder now. He moans again as the guy deep throats him, swallowing him down to the base and fondling his balls in his other hand. Bobby’s never been pleasured like this before, so expertly and entirely.   
  
He wants to say something, wants to speak, but he can’t find the words to express what he wants. He’s not even sure what he wants—he just likes it. All of it. Despite the shaky knees he keeps thrusting up into the mouth and sliding back onto the finger, ups the pace as fast as he can move himself.   
  
He can feel the orgasm building up, coiling tight in his belly, and normally he’d try to control it and not have it come on so early but he’s too wound up from everything at the moment and he doesn’t even give a warning before suddenly shooting his load into his guy’s mouth, clenching his ass involuntarily around his finger and stilling his movement completely. He can’t see anything except a wall of white in his eyes, can’t hear anything for a few seconds. It’s not until he takes in a very shaky breath that his senses come back.   
  
He lies on his back, unaware of anything else, breathing hard and feeling light as a feather. He barely feels it when the guy slides his finger out of his ass, barely aware of him dropping his dick out of his mouth. He’s not sure how long he lies there without moving or speaking, not sure of anything except that he’s never felt better than he feels right now. He sees the guy’s face looking down at him, sees his lips curve up in a smirk, but he can’t do anything except smile at him.   
  
Not long after that he feels himself being pushed up and a pillow slid in underneath him, but it doesn’t really register in his brain. Nothing registers, not the hands that grab him by the backs of his thighs and hoist him up, not the warm breath against his skin or the tongue that darts across the tip of his dick.   
  
He doesn’t really feel anything until he feels the wet tongue that shoves itself into his ass. That’s what finally wakes him back up, but it’s not because he’s opposed to the previously forbidden act.   
  
It’s because it feels so much better than he ever expected it to.   
  


* * *

  
He’s conquered Bobby much faster than he ever anticipated he would, and Hanbin can’t help but feel like he’s gotten too good at his own game. Or maybe there’s just something about Bobby, something that sets him apart from the other guys Hanbin has had. Because that weird attachment he’d felt the first time is still there. The part that makes him feel like maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to stay for the night.   
  
But it’s too early to contemplate any of that, so he finishes propping Bobby up and shoves his tongue into his ass, and Bobby’s reaction is everything he’d been hoping for. Nearly dead a second ago, Bobby’s writhing now, squirming uncontrollably and cursing. Hanbin always loves this part, when they wake up reborn.   
  
His fingers are dug tight into Bobby’s skin as he holds him up, his tongue probing in and out of Bobby’s puckered hole. He keeps it up for a few minutes, longer than he usually does, until finally his arms tire and he lowers Bobby back to the bed. He sits back and looks down at him, grinning when Bobby’s desperate eyes lock on his.   
  
“Please,” Bobby begs, his knees quivering.   
  
“Please what?” Hanbin asks teasingly, running a finger up Bobby’s side, which makes him squirm again with the way it tickles.   
  
“Please fuck me,” Bobby replies, and Hanbin is a little surprised that Bobby doesn’t seem surprised to be asking for it, not the way most guys are. He seems to have accepted his newfound role and instead of fighting it like he did earlier, he’s begging to be taken, begging for Hanbin to fill him up.   
  
He holds Bobby’s gaze, intense eyes boring into desperate ones, and he wants Bobby to remember this moment, wants him to remember them like this—Bobby on his back, entirely submissive and frantic in his desire to be taken and claimed; Hanbin on top of him, dominant and controlled, a paragon of pleasure. He’s got Bobby’s trust, and Hanbin feels drunk on it.   
  
It would be only too easy to shatter it entirely, to abandon Bobby’s pleasure and only attend to his own. It would destroy Bobby, though, it would hurt him on levels he hadn’t been hurt that first time. Hanbin never follows through on his ability to wound—he just likes knowing that he  _ can, _ if he wants to.   
  
“I want you to do something for me,” Hanbin says, slow and calm, reaching out to caress Bobby’s cheek with his fingers, smiling when Bobby turns his head into his hand, letting him do it before grabbing Bobby’s chin and turning his head back towards him. “I want you to clench your ass as tight as you can, and hold it for as long as you can.”   
  
Bobby looks confused but he does it anyway, and Hanbin has to bite his cheek to stop himself from smirking at him. He doesn’t want Bobby to confuse his lust for control with potential malicious behaviour. Hanbin grabs the lube and squeezes out a generous amount over his dick, thoroughly coating himself and waiting for Bobby’s muscles to relax.   
  
He can tell when Bobby gives up clenching, because his face goes slack and his body relaxes, and it’s at that exact moment that Hanbin hoists him up by the knees and slides his dick right into him, and the way Bobby’s muscles naturally relax and let him in, only to contract around him makes it feel like he’s being swallowed.   
  
Bobby curses at him but his voice is full of nothing but pleasure, and Hanbin knows he’s got the right angle when Bobby actually screams at him, a throaty yell as Hanbin’s dick hits his prostate and jangles his nerves all over again.   
  
Now that he’s got the angle right he slides Bobby’s legs up over his shoulders and wraps his arms over Bobby’s stomach, holding his body in place while he jackhammers into him, setting such a fast pace that Bobby can’t even keep up with him. Instead he just lies there like a doll and lets himself be fucked, lets Hanbin completely dominate him in a way he’s never  _ allowed _ anyone to dominate him before.   
  
Hanbin’s right hand is still slick with lube so he wraps it around Bobby’s dick, his ministrations fast and tight but exactly the way Bobby does it himself when he jerks off. He times it with his own thrusts and doesn’t stop until the lube dries up, and instead of getting more he just lets go of Bobby’s dick. He wants him to cum again, but without being touched.   
  
He keeps up his pace and isn’t surprised when eventually Bobby’s legs start slipping off his shoulders, and after putting them back up a few times he finally lets them drop to the bed. But instead of just letting them flop around he’s surprised when Bobby instead wraps them around his back, like he wants to lock Hanbin in against him.   
  
He’s leaning over Bobby when Bobby’s hands run up his arms, wrapping around the back of his neck. Bobby tugs on him and Hanbin decides to comply, leaning down to give Bobby the kiss he’s trying to get. Hanbin leans on his forearms as he kisses him, slowing down his pace but still fucking him as hard as he can from his position. Bobby’s kiss is frantic, his erratic breathing interrupting them, and eventually it’s not even much of a kiss anymore so much as it is Hanbin licking Bobby’s open lips while Bobby moans through it all, his eyes barely open and completely glazed over.   
  
Hanbin wants to finish him off, though, so he pulls up and grabs Bobby’s legs by the knees and forces them in towards his chest, giving himself the best angle possible to hammer into him again. Bobby’s fingers tighten around Hanbin’s forearms to the point that Hanbin actually has to let go of Bobby’s legs to pry his fingers off. Instead he leans over him and pins his hands to the bed up near his head, and when Bobby starts muttering incomprehensible swears again Hanbin knows he’s close.   
  
He’s got Bobby’s body curled up underneath him so his head is over Bobby’s head now, and he looks down at his face, pleased to see it looking thoroughly out of sorts. Bobby’s eyes are glazed and his mouth is slack, hard fast breaths barely keeping him going.   
  
“Bobby,” Hanbin calls to him, pleased when Bobby actually looks up at him with an unexpected level of awareness, “cum for me.”   
  
Bobby doesn’t reply with words, he just nods, and Hanbin watches his face contort as Bobby cums on command, and that display of his own power is enough to send Hanbin over the edge too, and he slams hard into him one last time, cursing as he blows his load inside of him, barely managing to hold himself up on shaky arms when all he wants to do is collapse on Bobby’s chest.   
  


* * *

  
When Bobby finally wakes up out of his euphoric daze fifteen minutes later, he’s confused and completely out of sorts. He barely remembers anything, but he’s got his head on someone’s chest and that person is running soothing fingers through his hair, and without thinking twice he smiles and snuggles his face further into the skin, letting out a happy and contented sigh.   
  
The only thing on his mind right now is how good he feels. It’s a weird sense of complete fulfillment, content in every single facet. He’s never experienced this before, feeling so overwhelmingly good that he can barely even remember his own name. Everything else pales in comparison to how sated he feels. The hand in his hair shifts a little to rub over his cheek and he sighs again, blissful at the tender contact. Normally he’d never be caught dead engaging in this kind of behaviour.   
  
But then...it’s starting to come back to him, slowly, bits and pieces, until—   
  
_ The guy from the club. _ Suddenly he remembers, his brain shakes off the clouds and everything is crystal clear.   
  
He let the guy fuck him, and while his knee jerk reaction is to be horrified at letting himself get trapped in that vulnerable position, a second later he realizes that maybe it wasn’t such a terrible thing after all, because true to his word, the guy had fucked him better than he’d ever had. He’s never blacked out purely from pleasure before. Didn’t think it was even possible.   
  
His eyes catch on a black expanse of skin and he realizes it’s the tattoo. Of course the person holding him right now is  _ that guy, _ but it still feels weird to come to that realization.   
  
It’s nice. He’s not sure if he’s comfortable liking this so much, but it’s actually nice to be cuddled up right now, the guy’s hand in his hair. He wants to put his arm around the guy’s waist, wants to be closer to him, and when he does that his tired arm drags across the guy’s leg and he’s surprised to feel material.   
  
The guy’s got his pants on again, and Bobby can’t help but frown.   
  
But that voice is back then, calling to him from above.   
  
“Are you finally awake?”   
  
Bobby can’t help but smile. There’s no aggression in the tone, no arrogance or harshness. His voice is soft, and Bobby sighs against him again.   
  
“Yeah.” His voice croaks and he suddenly feels thirsty.   
  
“How do you feel?”   
  
Bobby hesitates before answering, because the first thing he wants to say is absolutely stupid.  _ I feel like a new person. _ He doesn’t say that.   
  
“I feel good,” he settles for that instead, “it was amazing.”   
  
The guy laughs lightly and pats Bobby’s cheek. “Thank you, I’m glad you enjoyed it.”   
  
Bobby is about to say more but he suddenly remembers that the guy’s half dressed already. “You’re not leaving, are you?” He can’t be. After the sex they’ve just had, Bobby’s surprised the guy had even had the energy to leave the bed.   
  
There’s a pause before the guy answers, like he’s not prepared for the question.   
  
“I have to go, sorry.”   
  
Bobby’s not sure if he’s imagining it, but he swears that he can hear true remorse in the guy’s voice.   
  
“Stay with me.” Bobby doesn’t mean to beg, and he’s sure he’ll be kicking his ass for it later, but right now the only thing on his mind is that he really doesn’t want this guy to leave. He wants him to stay, not just for the night but he wants him to stay where he is right now, cuddled up next to him. He wants to sleep next to him, wants to wake up in the middle of the night and let the guy fuck him again, if he wants.   
  
The guy’s fingers brush over his cheek again, and Bobby feels a set of soft lips press against his forehead. “I’m sorry, Bobby, I really can’t stay.”   
  
“Please?” Bobby mumbles the request into the guy’s chest, not quite embarrassed over his pleading at the moment, but he will be later.   
  
“Maybe some other time.” They’re both quiet then, and it takes Bobby’s brain a few minutes to catch up, but finally it does and he understands what the guy said.   
  
_ Maybe some other time. _   
  
That means that he wants to do this again too, doesn’t it? Before Bobby can say anything though the guy sighs and speaks first.   
  
“Give me your phone number,” he requests, and Bobby can feel the guy’s arms over his back, and he must have his phone in his hands. Bobby sleepily recites his phone number. The guy stays where he is for another minute, and this time his fingers trace indistinct patterns over Bobby’s back and he can’t help but think that this is what heaven must feel like. But then the guy pats his cheek and moves, getting up from the bed, and Bobby watches as he stands up and looks around for his shirt.   
  
It’s weird, laying in bed and watching someone get dressed to leave, while knowing that he actually wants them to stay. He doesn’t know if there really is something about this guy in  particular, or if it was just because he’d gotten fucked good for the first time in his life. But he has to bite his tongue to keep from begging the guy to stay.   
  
The guy finally pulls his shirt on and turns around to look at him, and Bobby feels so strange about the situation. Hours ago and he hated this guy, would have gladly run him over if he’d been driving a car. Now he wants him to stay for the night, he wants to cook him breakfast in the morning? What the hell just happened to him?   
  
The guy leans down and kisses him softly on the forehead once, and the look on his face is kind of sad. Bobby wants to reach out and pull him back down into his bed.   
  
“Goodnight, Bobby. I’m glad we both got what we wanted.” He winks at him and turns for the door, and it’s not until that moment that Bobby’s brain wakes up again.   
  
The realization jolts him fully awake and he sits up at the side of his bed, hoping his knees won’t give out on him as he stands up and makes his way to the living room.   
  
“Hey, hold on!” He calls after him, and the guy’s already at the door but he turns around.   
  
“What?” He asks, his voice irritatingly calm, and Bobby frowns at him.   
  
“You didn’t tell me your name!” He replies. “That was part of the deal!”   
  
The guy smirks at him and holds his phone up. “I’ll text it to you, if you’re lucky.” Then he darts out the door and Bobby chases after him, yanks open his apartment door despite being completely naked and watches him slip into an elevator. He doesn’t turn around, and Bobby wonders if that should sting him as much as it does.   
  
He goes back into his apartment and closes the door, feeling both happy and oddly sad. Had the sex really been that good that he’s allowed his brain to develop these alien ideals about a life with this guy? Some kind of future?   
  
Had he really been that fucked up by that first messy hookup, years ago, that one amazing experience of bottoming for a guy suddenly has him yearning for things he told himself he’d never ever want from another man?   
  
He needs to put this whole thing behind him. Yes, he’s just had the best sex of his entire life. But that doesn’t mean he can’t have amazing sex again, with someone else. He’ll just have to do his research and find out what this guy did that was so amazing. He can recreate it, if he tries. He doesn’t need this guy specifically. His brain is just stuck on him because they just fucked. He’ll wake up tomorrow and he’ll feel more like himself.   
  
Well,  _ better _ than himself, because he won’t be carrying around dead weight anymore, and he had a positive resolution to this whole issue.   
  
The guy won’t text him, he’s sure of it. That was just part of his victory dance, Bobby sees that one last power move for what it is. One last moment of showing that he got to walk away as the victor. And that’s fine. Because he didn’t lose anything, not really. That’s what he’s going to tell himself, anyway.   
  
He has a fitful sleep that night, tossing and turning, mumbling in his sleep about black eyes and pretty lips and surprisingly strong hands, and when he wakes up in the morning he reaches for the snooze button on his alarm clock, out of instinct.   
  
But it’s half an hour before his alarm is supposed to go off, and he realizes then that it wasn’t his alarm clock that woke him.   
  
It was his phone.   
  
He opens the message before letting himself think about it, because it’s from the guy. Or at least he thinks it is, because he doesn’t recognize the number. He opens it with hopeful eyes, because despite what he’d told himself the night before, about letting go and moving on, he knows in his heart that he doesn’t actually want that at all.   
  
He wants that guy to come back, he wants to strip himself naked and lay on his back and let that guy mark him and claim him as his own, and he wants to get fucked beyond his limits again. He doesn’t care about what his family wants for him. He wants to stare up into those dominating black eyes and do whatever he’s told to do. It’s at such odds with who he was twelve hours ago, but the desire for it is so achingly strong that he doesn’t know what to do with himself.   
  
So he opens the text message and smiles, because it’s not completely lost. Not yet.   
  
_ :kim hanbin _ _  
_ _ :thats my name _ _  
_ _ :guess you got lucky after all _   
  
Bobby can’t stop smiling, and it takes him an hour to work up the nerve to respond.   
  
_ :am i lucky enough for round 2??? _   
  
He really hopes he doesn’t get rejected, because he’ll never be able to scrub this message from his memory, and if he gets turned down it’ll haunt him. But he has to ask. He can’t take the chance of not showing his interest.   
  
He gets an answer right away.   
  
: _ i normally dont but… _ _  
_ _ :maybe _   
  
It’s good enough for him right now. He’ll do whatever he has to in order to get that second round, and he’ll let  _ Hanbin _ do whatever he wants to do to him in order to convince him to stay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For now this will remain as 2/2. Having said that, there is a minute possibility that I might write a 3rd part, and that part would focus on a potential relationship between them. In my opinion there is nowhere near enough bottom!Bobby in this fandom, so I should really do something about that...
> 
> ETA: Yeah that didn't last long. I'm writing a third part so get ready for more bottom!Bobby. ;)


	3. Kinda I Want To

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when Bobby thinks he's over it, Hanbin pulls him in again, weaves a web around him that Bobby can't seem to free himself from, no matter how hard he struggles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to continue this for a few more chapters! The muses weren't quite finished with their story.
> 
> Chapter is named after a Nine Inch Nails song.

The very next day sees the butterflies in his stomach leave in a rush, and angry worms settle in to feast on his flesh instead. The shift is so absolute that it makes Bobby wonder if maybe he’d been drugged. It’s the only explanation he’s comfortable with. It’s the only way to explain away his actions of the day before, of searching up _Kim Hanbin_ on social media sites, of fingers hovering over his keyboard at work, wondering how much trouble he’d get into if he looked through the bank’s customer database (all he wanted was an address).   
  
He looks down at his phone again, body tensing in a seething rage when he looks at his own message.   
  
_am i lucky enough for round 2???_   
  
He wants to delete the message and block Hanbin’s number, maybe even ask for a transfer to a different branch.   
  
He just can’t accept what he did. What he let Hanbin do. It doesn’t matter how good it had felt, doesn’t matter what he’d been thinking in the moment. He wasn’t about to let half an hour of pleasure ruin his life. What would his family say if they knew? His mother wouldn’t be able to look him in the face. His father would never speak to him. His brother probably wouldn’t let him see his nephew again.   
  
He has to get back to his mindset before he’d ever met Hanbin, when men were nothing more than occasional one night stands to get him off. He just needs to find a girlfriend. Needs to find a stable relationship. That’s his answer.   
  
He texts Jinhwan to say that he wants to go out, wants to go hunting. Jinhwan doesn’t know that he’s met with Hanbin again, doesn’t know he let Hanbin fuck him. Bobby’s going to keep it that way. As soon as he’s done making plans with Jinhwan he opens up his contact list and deletes Hanbin’s number. He contemplates blocking it, but opts for the simple deletion instead.   
  
It’s not like Hanbin is actually going to text him anyway. He just wanted to make a point in taking it. That’s fine. Bobby’s willing to concede that defeat to him, because it taught him a lesson.   
  
The irritated feelings carry over to the evening, no matter how much Bobby tries to shake them off. Jinhwan is going to know that something is up, and Bobby’s running out of time to come up with an answer. Should he just tell him that he saw Hanbin at work? Skip the part where Hanbin stalked him right into his apartment? That would be enough grounds to explain his irritation and his newfound decision to put Hanbin firmly out of his head.   
  
So he goes with it.   
  
“Wait, he went to your bank?” Jinhwan splutters, practically spitting his drink out.   
  
“Sure did,” Bobby replies, toying with his bottle of beer. He hasn’t had whiskey since that night at the club. It doesn’t taste the same anymore.   
  
“Was it by chance, do you think?” Jinhwan asks, lips pursed and eyes crinkled slightly in amusement.   
  
Bobby glares at him. “Yeah, he works near there. Anyway he just came in, wanted to exchange some money, like he came in with a fat stack of cash in an unmarked envelope. So fucking sketchy. I called him on it, you know, part of the job.”   
  
Jinhwan nods. “Right out in the open?”   
  
“Sure did,” Bobby lies, “asked him what he was doing with it. Like, who the fuck does that? Drug dealers?”   
  
Jinhwan grins and sips his drink. “What was his reaction?”   
  
“He looked pissed, said it wasn’t my business.” Bobby smirks, because all he was doing really was re-writing history, the way it _should_ have happened. “I made a show of checking the bills, though, right in front of everyone. Had some older lady next to him giving him the evil eye; bet she thought it was suspect too.”   
  
“So how did it end? Did you give him his money?”   
  
“Yeah, of course. Though I gave it to him in the smallest bills possible, which pissed him off even more. It’s what he deserves though. It was just good to see him face to face again, when I had the upper hand. He looked different in daylight.”   
  
“Oh yeah?” Jinhwan replies, beginning to question in his head if it all really happened this way.   
  
Bobby nods. “Yeah, let’s just say that shadowy clubs do his skin good. I almost can’t believe I actually fucked him. Definitely wouldn’t do it again.”   
  
Jinhwan nods and takes another slow sip of his drink. Now he knows Bobby’s lying. That guy was exactly Bobby’s type, and no amount of lighting would change his eyes or his lips or his pretty face. But Jinhwan’s too good a friend to call Bobby on his bullshit. As long as Bobby’s over him, that’s all that matters in the end. Jinhwan’s sick of his obsession and ready to move on.   
  
“So, let’s find you a prettier face, then?” Jinhwan asks, and Bobby nods, throwing the rest of his beer back. Jinhwan holds onto his drink, though, eyes moving from Bobby to the rest of the bar. He has to help Bobby find someone really gorgeous tonight. Just to be extra sure he moves on from this nonsense.   
  
Half an hour later and Bobby’s latched on to some guy with idol-like features, who’s got a face so beautiful he could be mistaken for a woman. Jinhwan settles back in at the bar to order another drink and watch Bobby in peace. Hopes that maybe the next time he goes out he’ll be able to look for someone for himself instead of babysitting Bobby all night.   


* * *

  
The first thing Bobby gets from this guy is a name (though he refuses to give his own). The guy’s touchy, continually stroking Bobby’s arm and nudging his knee in between Bobby’s legs. Bobby smirks at him every time he does something physical, wants to make sure this guy knows his place. The guy’s eager to please and doesn’t hesitate when Bobby tells him to grab his dick and make him hard.   
  
He leans against the wall as the pretty boy in front of him slides a hand down his pants, slender fingers wrapping around his dick. It feels great until suddenly it makes Bobby think about Hanbin’s slender fingers, about Hanbin’s finger in his ass—   
  
His hand squeezes around the bottle of beer in his hand and he breathes out through his clenched teeth. The guy only thinks he’s doing it because he likes the handjob he’s currently getting, and he leans in closer to Bobby.   
  
“I’m so hard right now, thinking about having your big dick in my ass,” the guy says, kissing Bobby’s neck, “I want you to fuck me so hard I scream.”   
  
“Oh yeah?” Bobby replies, momentarily letting Hanbin escape from his thoughts. “Want your little ass pounded?” The guy nods and grabs Bobby’s free hand, moves to put it on his dick.   
  
But Bobby pulls his hand back. The guy looks at him with a pout. Bobby smirks at him. “Show me how hard you are.” This is the real test. They’re at a packed bar, the post-work rush in the process of turning into the nightclub rush. Bobby watches as the guy unbuttons his jeans with one hand and pulls the zipper down, not even looking around before reaching into his open pants and pulling his dick out, just enough for Bobby to see his erection.   
  
This is what he likes. He likes being in control, likes bossing little bitch boys around and making them do whatever he wants. This is who he is. Not whatever the hell he turned into around Kim Hanbin (god it _had_ to be drugs, it had to be). He’s almost tempted to tell the guy to get on his knees and suck his dick, but he barely manages to keep the command in his head only. There are places in the city where you can freely do that sort of thing—this isn’t one of them.   
  
Just then he feels his phone vibrate with a message and he opens it without checking who it’s from, assuming it’s Jinhwan asking him if he’s going to leave soon with his piece of ass.   
  
But it’s not Jinhwan, and even though he deleted the contact he still has the number memorized.   
  
_?: are you busy right now?_   
  
Bobby’s fingers curl tight around the phone and he has to fight the urge to hurl it at the wall. He’s tempted to take a picture of this pretty boy’s hand on his dick. Wants to show Hanbin that he escaped out from under his weird voodoo magic, that he’s back to himself. Wants to video chat with him and make Hanbin watch as he tells this guy to suck his dick. He’d risk getting thrown out if it meant getting one up on Hanbin.   
  
But just as he’s beginning to seriously contemplate taking the picture, Hanbin sends him a picture, and it makes Bobby’s blood run cold.   
  
He stares at himself, he can tell it’s himself because of the tattoo on his back, and he feels like throwing up. When the hell did Hanbin take it? Why does he have it? Why is he sending it?   
  
_?: it’s a good shot, isn’t it? thinking about getting it framed on my wall_   
  
Bobby’s eyes narrow in anger at the comment. Because in the picture Bobby’s obviously passed out, his head pillowed on his arm, and there on his ass is the condom Hanbin had worn when he’d fucked him, its contents leaking out and glistening against Bobby’s skin.   
  
_?: i want you to get tested for stds before we fuck again_ _  
_ _?: because the next time i fuck you i don’t intend to use a condom_   
  
Bobby’s so enraged he pushes away from the wall, leaving his beer on a nearby table and rudely flinging away the hand on his dick. He hears the spluttered question of the guy behind him but doesn’t stop, just knocks people aside in his haste to get to the exit.   
  
He feels his phone vibrate again and has to stuff it into the back pocket of his jeans so he doesn’t throw it at the wall. He finally makes it outside (after knocking some guy into the door so hard that he swears) and doesn’t think, just starts walking.   
  
“Bobby!”   
  
He hears the yell behind him but doesn’t stop. Seconds later and a hand grabs his arm.   
  
“What the fuck happened? I thought you were taking that guy home?”   
  
Bobby doesn’t look at Jinhwan. “Changed my mind.”   
  
“No kidding,” Jinhwan replies, walking fast to keep pace with Bobby, “you seemed like you were having a good time, though. What went wrong?”   
  
Bobby pauses, stands where he is and closes his eyes while taking a deep breath. “I really don’t want to talk about it. He just didn’t end up being what I wanted.”   
  
Jinhwan crosses his arms and stares hard at him. “I saw you check your phone before you flipped out.”   
  
“Were you fucking watching me?!” Bobby explodes, yelling at Jinhwan in a way that he’s never yelled at him before.   
  
Jinhwan doesn’t flinch, though, just stands and stares at him. “I’ve been worried about you, wanted to make sure you were having a good time.”   
  
He can feel his phone buzzing again. He doesn’t want to see what else Hanbin has written, but he also doesn’t want to answer Jinhwan’s comment. He pulls his phone out, because maybe he can come up with some bullshit cover story.   
  
_?: i want to take a picture of my dick in your ass next time_ _  
_ _?: maybe a cumshot on your abs_ _  
_ _?: maybe your smiling face while my finger’s working you_ _  
_ _?: maybe i’ll even stay the night_   
  
Bobby’s shaking in anger by the time he reads the last one. How dare he. How dare he take that picture, and how dare he assume he’ll be doing it again.   
  
Then again… Bobby can’t help the way it hits him, the way it suddenly makes his mouth water, the way it makes his knees weak. He’s not attracted to those words. He’s not. They don’t turn him on, he doesn’t want any of it, doesn’t feel short of breath and hungry for more of it.   
  
He should have blocked him.   
  
“Who’s texting you?” Jinhwan asks, nudging Bobby out of his brain fog.   
  
“No one,” Bobby replies, not in the mood to answer Jinhwan’s questions.   
  
“You’re a garbage liar,” Jinhwan says before nimbly reaching for Bobby’s phone and plucking it out of his hands.   
  
“Jinhwan!” Bobby yells before grabbing Jinhwan’s arm and pulling him back, inadvertently slamming him right into the wall.   
  
“What the fuck is your problem?” Jinhwan yells at him, angry glare meeting an equally angry set of eyes. “What the fuck is up your ass tonight?”   
  
“Give me back my phone.” Bobby can feel himself shaking again, but this time there’s a bit of shame mixed in with the rage. He’s flipping out way too hard. Jinhwan knows it.   
  
Jinhwan shakes his head and punches in Bobby’s password and gets his answers. Bobby tries to grab for the phone again but Jinhwan’s seen the picture, saw enough of the words to get the gist of the conversation. He lets Bobby wrestle his phone back out of his hands.   
  
Bobby turns his phone off and stuffs it back into his pocket, his breath every bit as shaky as his hands. He waits for it, waits for the question. Jinhwan’s not stupid. He’s probably figured it out by now.   
  
“You saw him again, didn’t you?” Jinhwan says softly, and he doesn’t need to specify who he means. Bobby doesn’t answer. “That bank story was bullshit, I _knew_ it.”   
  
Bobby turns his back and leans against the wall, too many competing emotions trying to control his brain. He doesn’t want to hear whatever Jinhwan has to say. Is totally not interested in discussing what just happened. But Jinhwan has always had a way at picking his way inside of Bobby’s brain. Has always been able to make him talk.   
  
“Bobby? Did you let him fuck you?” Jinhwan gets right to the heart of the matter and Bobby doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to admit it, but the evidence was right there on the screen and Jinhwan saw it.   
  
Fine. He can’t lie his way out of this one. “Yeah, and it was the dumbest fucking thing I’ve ever done.”   
  
Jinhwan is quiet for a moment, processing the news. “Was it good, at least?”   
  
Was it good? How is he possibly supposed to explain that? How is he supposed to say that it was the single greatest sexual encounter he’s ever had in his life, but that it was also the biggest mistake he’s ever made?   
  
“Bobby?”   
  
Bobby lets out a shaky breath. “Yeah. It was good.”   
  
“So what happened, then? He fucked you and then what, you guys had an argument or something? He said he doesn’t want to see you again? Then again I guess not, if that text is anything to go by.”   
  
“I said I didn’t want to talk about it,” Bobby replies, feeling irritated.   
  
“I’ve never seen you like this before,” Jinhwan says, sounds concerned, “well, not since that first time—”   
  
“Jinhwan.” Bobby finally turns to look at him. “We don’t talk about that.” He says it in a whisper, like if it’s not loud enough for anyone else to hear then that means it never actually happened.   
  
“Right, sorry.” Jinhwan actually looks sorry, and it makes Bobby feel better. He can’t really blame him. After that night, after his first terrible experience of letting a guy fuck him, Bobby had taken a cab to Jinhwan’s place and had spent the night shaking in his arms. But he never talked about what happened, so Jinhwan’s never really known. Of course he assumes the worst.   
  
“Okay, here’s all I’ll say about the situation. I think you need to either block his number and never have anything to do with him again, or you should report him to the police. He has that picture of you, took it without your permission. How do you know he doesn’t have more?”   
  
Bobby shakes his head and snorts in derision at Jinhwan’s suggestion. “The police? So they can do what? Laugh in my face because I let some guy fuck me in the ass? No thanks, I’ll handle this on my own.”   
  
Jinhwan sighs and reaches out to touch his arm, but Bobby jerks away at the touch. “There are some things you can’t handle by yourself, Bobby.”   
  
“Yeah and this isn’t one of them,” Bobby replies, a sudden flare of anger coursing through him. Fuck Jinhwan for treating him like some wounded animal. He doesn’t need anyone’s help. He’ll sort this shit out on his own. “I gotta go.”   
  
“Hold on!” Jinhwan reaches out for him again but Bobby brushes him off. “Bobby! What are you doing?”   
  
“What I need to do.” Bobby looks over his shoulder, certain that Jinhwan’s going to be demanding answers later. “I’ll text you tomorrow.” He hurries off down the street, not letting himself think until he’s put a few blocks in between himself and Jinhwan. Then he finds a bench by the river where he sits down and turns his phone on.   
  
Hanbin hasn’t sent any further messages, and Bobby can’t stop himself from reading over what he did send. Can’t stop staring at his picture. He shakes a little with the warring emotions rampaging inside his head, like stags smashing antlers together. His dick is hard, but he’s also so disgusted that he feels sick to his stomach. Then there’s the anger, he wants to punch something, someone…   
  
Hanbin. He wants to kick Hanbin’s legs out from underneath him and rain fists down on his face until he’s bloody. Wants to stand over his prone form and laugh at him, wants to whip his dick out and piss on him. Wants to prove that he fucked with the wrong guy.   
  
_bobby: where r u? we need to talk_ _  
_ _bobby: right now i dont care what ur doin_   
  
That’s what he needs. He needs to look Hanbin in the eyes and threaten him to delete every god damn picture he’s got on his phone. Maybe Bobby might just take the phone for himself, to be extra sure.   
  
_?: packing for my flight to tokyo_ _  
_ _?: can it wait til monday?_   
  
Bobby seethes at the message.   
  
_bobby: no it cant fuckin wait_ _  
_ _bobby: right the fuck now_ _  
_ _?: eager are we?_

 _?: stay where you are and i’ll send a car for you_ _  
_ _?: we can talk on the way to the airport_ _  
_ _bobby: fine_ _  
_ _bobby: u wanna do it that way ok_ _  
_ _?: look out for a black stretch suv_ _  
_ _?: should be there soon_   
  
Bobby glares at his phone and doesn’t answer. A black stretch SUV. Who the fuck uses one of those? Except celebrities? Unless Hanbin is rich? Oh, wouldn’t that just be _perfect._ Some asshole rich kid using his dad’s money. The more he thinks about it, the angrier it makes Bobby. He just needs to keep the anger available, right on the tip of his tongue, he needs to be ready to unleash a storm the second he sees Hanbin.   
  
Four minutes later a set of headlights settle on him but he waits, not wanting to look too eager. When the light starts to get annoying he finally looks up and his eyes take in the black stretch SUV.   
  
It’s actually a little embarrassing to get up and walk over towards the driver’s side window, which is rolled down in anticipation of his conversation.   
  
Like he’s some kind of fucking prostitute.   
  
“Are you Bobby Kim?” The driver asks him, and Bobby nods but doesn’t say anything. The side door automatically slides open, and Bobby banishes the second thoughts in the back of his mind as he gets into the car. Hanbin isn’t here, of course not. Bobby has to stifle the urge to bolt out of the vehicle and instead he watches as the door automatically closes again, sealing him in.   
  
The driver takes off and Bobby sits there, stewing in silent rage. After a while he takes his phone out, tracking where they are. They’re in Gangnam, which isn’t a surprise. He figured Hanbin either lived or worked in the area, since he’d stopped in at Bobby’s bank that was nearby.   
  
He doesn’t check again until the vehicle stops and he hears the driver call Hanbin to let him know he’s arrived. He can’t see much out of the darkly tinted windows, so he pulls up his map and checks to see where they are. Just to know the general area where Hanbin lives.   
  
He’s shocked at the address. They’re parked outside of the Royal County VI, an exclusive and very expensive residential building that houses both rich businessmen and celebrities alike. The fact that Hanbin actually is rich enough to live here makes Bobby angry all over again. He can also feel his cheeks flushing in renewed embarrassment at having allowed Hanbin into his apartment, which is nothing compared to where Hanbin lives. He can see the judgemental look in Hanbin’s eyes again from when he entered, can see the look of disdain on his face as he looked around in disappointment. No wonder.   
  
A minute later and the door slides open, and even though Bobby’s ready and waiting to unleash a verbal tirade full of vitriol at Hanbin the second he sees him, he can’t help but pause. Hanbin’s standing outside the car, lit in the light of the streetlamp, and Bobby isn’t sure if it’s because of where they are and what he now knows, but Hanbin just looks different. He looks expensive, looks like his fancy buckled boots are worth more than Bobby’s entire outfit.   
  
He’s wearing a very well fitted pair of black dress pants and a button up shirt that’s rolled up at the elbows, a pair of sunglasses dangling from his shirt despite the late night hour. His hair is gelled back, and Bobby can’t help but think that it looks more like he’s headed out to some fancy cocktail bar instead of to the airport.   
  
Hanbin speaks to the driver outside, low enough that Bobby can’t hear, so Bobby waits for him to climb up into the vehicle. The door automatically slides shut behind him and Bobby’s attention is drawn by the partition that suddenly slides up behind the driver.   
  
Hanbin wants privacy, apparently. Well, that’s fine by Bobby.   
  
Hanbin finally looks at him and Bobby loses all the words he’s had stored in his head for the past hour. All he can do is stare at Hanbin and gulp nervously, his brain short-circuiting. He gets the feeling that Hanbin _knows,_ and that’s why his lips turn in a smirk.   
  
“You wanted to talk?” Hanbin asks, his voice soft, in complete contrast to the way he’s looking at Bobby with narrowed, hungry eyes.   
  
Bobby has to pinch himself to remember what he’s here for. “Yeah,” he starts, meeting Hanbin’s eyes and forcing himself to recall his anger, “yeah I wanted to fucking talk to you.”   
  
Hanbin cocks his head to the side and regards him with a fond expression. The sort of look an adult gives a particularly adorable child. “Well, don’t let me keep you from sharing your feelings.”   
  
“I want to fuck you again.” Bobby’s surprised by his own words. They’re not at all what he’d planned to say. He’d meant to demand Hanbin’s phone, meant to delete the pictures he has stored of him.   
  
“Do you?” Hanbin asks, still wearing the irritatingly fond expression.   
  
“Yeah. This time maybe I’ll take pictures of you, with my cock rammed down your throat, cum dripping off your lips.” Well, now that he’s started, he might as well go with the idea. Hanbin’s expression hasn’t changed and it pisses Bobby off. He wants to punch him, but at the same time he just wants to sit and stare at him. Wants to whip his dick out and jerk off in Hanbin’s face.   
  
“What a fascinating suggestion,” Hanbin replies, “very creative,” he says mockingly, “very unexpected of you.”   
  
Bobby’s hand balls into a fist, and he has to force himself to unclench his fingers. “It’s only fair, I think, since you have pictures of me.”   
  
Hanbin smiles at him in a condescending manner. “That’s cute. That you think that I would willingly put myself in that position.” Hanbin reaches out then, his hand on Bobby’s thigh, and it catches Bobby by surprise.   
  
He looks down at the hand, slightly panicked when he can see the obvious bulge in his own pants. _Shit._ He’s losing what little power he had in calling the meeting. Just as he’s about to speak one of Hanbin’s fingers stretches out and pushes against his erection, making Bobby stiffen involuntarily.   
  
“How long have you been this hard?” Hanbin asks, his eyes on Bobby, whose eyes are still downcast. “Since I texted you the picture?”   
  
Bobby wants to fling his hand off his leg, but he feels like that would be giving Hanbin power. Instead maybe he should just try to ignore it. Or maybe…   
  
“I’ve been hard ever since I thought about getting you on your back and choking you with my dick,” Bobby replies, with as much attitude as he can muster.   
  
“We both know that won’t be happening. I let you do it once. That was enough.” Hanbin moves his entire hand, groping Bobby roughly through his pants. Bobby can’t help but groan, his eyes fluttering closed for a second in pleasure. _Fuck!_ Why is he falling apart again, and so easily?   
  
“I really wish you’d stop fighting yourself, Bobby,” Hanbin says, “this foolish pride of yours really needs to be dealt with. We both know that what you want more than anything right now is for me to fuck you again, just as good as I did the last time.”   
  
Bobby wraps fingers around Hanbin’s wrist and glares at him, his voice coming out in a near snarl. “You don’t know what I want.”   
  
Hanbin grins. “You know what I want?” He pauses, like he’s waiting for Bobby to offer an answer. But Bobby’s too aggravated to respond, caught in the moment and wanting to pull Hanbin’s hand away, but for some reason he doesn’t. Hanbin continues. “I want to look you in the eyes while I jerk you off and make you cum in your pants like some desperate teenager who can’t control himself.”   
  
Bobby’s eyes fly wide open at the comment, he feels insulted all the way down to his core. But despite his tight fingers around Hanbin’s wrist, he doesn’t move Hanbin’s hand. He lets it stay where it is, clamped tightly around his dick.   
  
Hanbin slowly grins at him. “I think, deep down, you want that too, don’t you? You want me to prove my superiority over you, you want to embarrass yourself in front of me. You still have that pent up shame burning a hole in your stomach, and you can’t get rid of it.”   
  
Bobby’s cheeks are flushed in both anger and shame at Hanbin’s words. “Fuck off.”   
  
“You’re like a little cornered dog,” Hanbin replies, unphased by the retort, “the kind that are so terrified of everything that all they can do is yap, waiting for their leader to show up and put them in their place. Let me be your leader, Bobby. I’ll take good care of you.” At that Hanbin moves, slides closer and slips his hands under Bobby’s pants, wraps fingers around his dick and pumps it hard.   
  
All the while Bobby can’t bring himself to move, can’t do anything except stare up into Hanbin’s black eyes, breath hitching in his throat, shame churning in his gut at being caught in this scenario again. But loathe as he is to admit it, Hanbin’s fingers feel amazing around his dick, and he wants nothing more than to lose himself in the impromptu handjob.   
  
Hanbin wraps his free hand around the back of Bobby’s neck and leans forward to press his lips against Bobby’s skin, not quite a kiss but close enough to test him.   
  
Bobby responds, his own hands moving up to cup Hanbin’s cheeks, pulling his face around until Bobby can close his lips over Hanbin’s, tongue probing desperately into Hanbin’s mouth. He’s surrendered to the moment, his body rigid while Hanbin works him, feeling the release balanced precariously on his fingertips, and any second now he’s going to let Hanbin win, he’s going to cum in his jeans and even though it’s going to feel amazing in the moment he’s going to beat himself up for it later.   
  
But he can’t stop. Can’t stop kissing him, can’t stop squirming in his grasp, can’t stop thrusting against his closed fist, can’t stop the desperate yearning for release. He can’t stop his heart from racing, can’t stop his breath coming in short gasps, just can’t stop at all.   
  
Hanbin can tell he’s close, he can feel it in Bobby’s body, in the way he’s not even fighting himself anymore. It feels different for him too this time, and he wonders—is it the kissing? Is it actually the kissing?   
  
Because he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about Bobby since he’d left his apartment. Hasn’t been able to get him out of his head. There’s something about him, something that keeps drawing him in. He feels differently about Bobby than he’s felt about any of the others.   
  
But that’s a thought for when he’s alone.   
  
For now he pulls his mouth away from Bobby’s, brings his lips up to Bobby’s ear.   
  
“Cum for me, baby.”   
  
Bobby arches back into the seat, scream caught in his throat, but he does as he’s told, shooting over Hanbin’s fingers, panting hard. His brain can’t process exactly what just happened, he’s too caught up in feeling good. He’s got a floaty feeling, not unusual after an orgasm. He’s vaguely aware of a flash of light, but he can’t quite figure out what caused it.   
  
Hanbin tucks his phone away into his pocket, grabbing a wipe from the package in the door and cleaning his fingers off. Bobby’s still blissed out next to him, and Hanbin can’t help but watch him with a smile on his face.   
  
He can’t begin to explain his attraction to Bobby, but it’s there, growing constantly inside of him, and he’s just going to go with it. He’s good at manipulating people in order to get what he wants, after all. Bobby is a conquest, sure, but maybe, if things go well, maybe he might become something else eventually.   
  
Bobby starts to stir as they pull up to the airport, and Hanbin is grateful for the timing. “Bobby,” he calls, laying a hand on Bobby’s arm, “I’m here, so I have to go.”   
  
Bobby hears him and that’s when his anger chooses to come back. “Hold the fuck on,”  he says with a tired voice, mortified that he actually let himself get sucked in by Hanbin again. But it’s hard to make demands of anyone after cumming in your pants.   
  
Hanbin looks at him and waits, his eyes focused and curious. It just makes Bobby even angrier.   
  
“You need to delete that picture of me on your phone,” he finally says, staring Hanbin in the eyes.   
  
“Which one?” Hanbin asks, his face wearing a neutral expression.   
  
“You know which one,” Bobby replies, before realizing what Hanbin said, “wait what do you mean, _which one?”_   
  
Hanbin smirks finally. “I took another one tonight, something to look at while I’m away.”   
  
Bobby feels like he’s seconds away from wrestling Hanbin’s phone from him, but that’s when the door opens and the driver stands outside. Bobby’s tempted to yell at him to shut the door again, but he’s also wary of attracting attention.   
  
“I know you’re at war with yourself,” Hanbin says, “you’re angry that I have pictures of you, but at the same time, when you think about that later we both know it’ll turn you on. You want me to have pictures of you; you want me to be looking at pictures of you. You like the attention, even though you don’t want to. And I get it, really, I understand. You’ve never met someone like me before, so it’s completely reasonable that you’re afraid.”   
  
Bobby’s shaking by the time Hanbin finishes speaking, angry at what he’s saying. Afraid? _Afraid?_ He doesn’t fear anyone or anything; never has, never will.   
  
“I’m not afraid of you,” he snaps, glaring intently at Hanbin’s amused expression.   
  
“Keep telling yourself that,” Hanbin replies, “but you’ll never really believe it. Anyway, listen, it’s a shame we had such little time. I’d have loved to park on the side of the highway and fuck you on the hood of the car, let everyone see while they drive past. Maybe we’ll do that sometime in the future.”   
  
“We fucking will not.” Bobby bites back, embarrassed at the suggestion.   
  
“I’ll be back late on Sunday night, but we should do dinner on Monday. I’ll take you somewhere really expensive, so wear something nice.” Hanbin reaches out and strokes a finger down the side of Bobby’s cheek, smiling when Bobby’s eyes widen in surprise. “You do own a suit, don’t you? Something tailored, that doesn’t look like you bought it second hand?”   
  
Does he own a suit? What an absurd question! “I work in a bank, Hanbin,” he snaps back, “of course I own a fucking suit.”   
  
Hanbin smirks at the personal affront. “I would have assumed as much, but you also own shitty lube and your apartment’s a mess. Can’t blame me for making sure.” Hanbin leans forward suddenly, his lips brushing against Bobby’s forehead. “My driver will take you back home, or wherever you want to go. Have a nice weekend.” Hanbin slides out of the vehicle then, leaving Bobby silent and shell-shocked.   
  
What the fuck?! What kind of bullshit way to brush him off! He’s tempted to crawl out of the car and go after Hanbin, wants answers, wants to yell at him and threaten him in front of a crowd. But he’s in no condition. And Hanbin knows it.   
  
So instead he waits in the car, enraged at the whole situation, and when the driver comes back and asks him if he’d like to go home, Bobby says yes and doesn’t realize until the car pulls up outside his building that he hadn’t given the driver his address.   
  
He’s embarrassed all over again as he leaves the car and walks into his building, because he can feel just how sticky his underwear is, and it makes him feel like a stupid hormonal teenager. He wonders if he should just burn the clothes? Better that than keeping the memories from this failed moment.   
  
He strips the second he makes it into his apartment, leaving his soiled clothes by the door, too disgusted to look at them. He takes a hot shower and tries not to think about what just happened to him. But of course his thoughts end up there, and suddenly he remembers Hanbin’s request for dinner.   
  
_Dinner._ At some fancy, expensive restaurant. He weighs his options.   
  
He can refuse, and feel like he’s not giving in. Might save a bit of his pride.   
He can go, get a free meal, then leave Hanbin there by himself and block his number.   
He can go, get a free meal, then leave with Hanbin, and see where the night takes them.   
  
Because as much as he hates to admit it, there really is something about Hanbin that attracts him. He wants to fuck him again, sure, but that’s not all he wants. Now that he’s in the shower with hot water running over him, he can’t help but think about the car ride. It’s embarrassing as hell, and he’d never admit it to anyone, but both times now that he’s been with Hanbin, his orgasms have been the best he’s ever had. The first time, when he’d fucked Hanbin, that hadn’t felt this good.   
  
He can’t get Hanbin’s whispered commands out of his head, can’t stop hearing them in his ear. Hanbin had actually called him _baby,_ which is a term that Bobby has never used before, nor allowed anyone to use on him. But Hanbin had said it, as simple as anything, and Bobby had done exactly what he’d been told to do.   
  
And even though he knows he’s going to hate himself for it later, right now he can’t help but lean against the wall of his shower stall and wrap his fingers around his dick, remembering the way Hanbin had so quickly and deftly jerked him off in the car. That makes him think about how amazing it had been when Hanbin had fingered him, remembers the way Hanbin had fucked him with all his expertise and skill.   
  
He can hear it again in his head, he can hear Hanbin telling him what to do, can hear Hanbin speaking to him in that amused and condescending voice that makes Bobby’s toes curl in disgust because of how much it turns him on. He can see Hanbin’s judgemental eyes watching him, can imagine them on him now, goading him on, and without thinking about it Bobby turns around, back against the wall, knees slightly bent, right hand on his dick, jerking himself off while Hanbin could be standing there, watching him. Hanbin would want to see this, he’d want to watch, want to offer commentary.   
  
Bobby can hear his comments in his head, can clearly hear Hanbin’s voice. _That’s it, baby, that’s what I want to see, let me watch you cum all over yourself, I want to see you cum so hard that you can’t stand, I want you on the floor when you’re done, and then I want you to open your mouth and suck my dick._   
  
Bobby’s knees are actually shaking and he cums with a gasp, spurting all over his stomach. He closes his eyes and envisions Hanbin there, standing in front of him, his gaze appreciative, and he pictures them kissing, hands wrapped around each other’s necks, fingers stroking cheeks. He wants to experience that again. He likes it, even though he also hates it.   
  
He stays in the shower for a while, letting the water wash away all evidence of what he’s done. He can’t look at himself, can’t admit how worked up he’s gotten over this. It’s utterly embarrassing, the way he just can’t control his thoughts.   
  
He turns off the water after a while and grabs a towel, drying himself off on his way to his bedroom. He doesn’t bother pulling on any clothes, just drops his towel on the floor and turns off his lights before crawling into bed. It’s early for a Friday night, usually he’s not home until two or three in the morning. It’s not even midnight, but he’s mentally exhausted. He contemplates going to sleep, but instinctually looks at his phone first. There’s a message from an unknown number, but he knows who it is.   
  
_?: i mean it about dinner on monday_ _  
_ _?: ill text you the time but ill probably pick you up around eight_ _  
_ _?: i mean it about the nice clothes i want you in a suit and tie_   
  
Bobby looks at the phone, then looks at the wall, and thinks _I never actually confirmed this offer,_ but those thoughts are better left for another day.   
  
_bobby: ok_   
  
That’s all he can muster up himself, but it’s enough.   
  
_?: good boy_   
  
It makes Bobby’s heart pound. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t know what to say in response. Instead he puts his phone on his bedside table and lays his head against his pillow, falling into a fitful sleep.   
  
He wakes up at three in the morning and grabs his phone out of instinct. He opens Hanbin’s message, but he doesn’t reply.   
  
Instead he just adds him back to his contact list.   
  
_Kim Hanbin_   
  
Then he rolls over and falls asleep, and this time he sleeps well.


End file.
